The 17th: Rubber Rooms and Deadlines
by Chaos In Her Wake
Summary: Scarlet flowers bloom and innocent eyes glaze over. Cruel smiles fade as knives fly. Screams ring in terrorized young ears. Twenty-three lives cut short, the victor forever changed. The 17th Hunger Games have begun. May the odds be ever in your favor.
1. Prologue

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Hunger Games. That goes for the concept, the characters, the plot... everything. All I have are the words I write. **

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**DEPUTY GAMEMAKER CORNELIA THAMES**

"You called, Sir?" I step into the ornate office and run my hand down the polished doorframe. It's lovely, unlike the spartan Gamemaker's headquarters. The high-backed chair, cushioned with a royal purple cloth and carved with intricate symbols, looks like a throne and the man sitting in it looks just as regal. I feel like I should bow. But when my body takes over and I begin to dip down, the man beckons with his fingers. I do not need to show medieval signs of subordination to President Vespasian Riker.

"Yes, Miss Thames. Where is Head Gamemaker Lusanius? I have been attempting to summon him for days now. The arena plans must be sent to the constructors by the end of this week or it will not have time to fully prepare for its victims."

"We... we sent you the memorandum, Sir," I try not to stutter. Julius showed us the sent message on his sleek hologram screen. Deathly quiet, President Riker stands and lays his hands on his desk.

"Are you contradicting me, Cornelia Aurelia Thames?" I quickly avert my gaze. The last Gamemaker who looked an angry President in the eyes is still in the comatose unit of the hospital.

"No, sir. Mr. Lusanius is in the asylum still. He was driven insane by the attempted surgical procedure last week, if you recall. The arena was barely in the workings." Riker curses and slams his fist down on a stack of papers.

"The Reapings are in seven months- only seven months, woman! I don't care if Lusanius is dead; the arena needs to be planned by this Saturday!" Then a grim smile creeps across his craggy face.

"Find Lusanius, Miss Thames. You Gamemakers will take little field trip this afternoon."

-LATER-

"Ah, yes. Miss Thames." Riker strolls from his panoramic window to where I stand, trembling, at the door.

"I have the data, Sir."

"Good." He snatches the sheaf of papers from my hands and flips through the charts and analyses. "What is this, Miss Thames?"

"Exactly what you asked for, Sir." He frowns and drops the papers on his desk.

"All throughout that brilliant mind of his and he had not a single idea for the arena! Not one! Only fleeting thoughts about that asylum and a few flashes of fear when we extracted the thoughts!" He turns to me with his crimson eyes full of fury. "Yes, Miss Thames? There is no need to act like a timid schoolgirl around me. We are adults with high-ranking positions." I lower my hand, abashed.

"We can still use these thoughts, sir." President Riker raises his eyebrows.

"Oh? How so?" I point to several of the data points.

"If we just adjust these, the arena will be totally new and unique- nothing anyone will ever have seen before!" The thought came to me suddenly and my Gamemaker's mind already whirs with ideas for traps and strategies to draw whatever tributes we receive into direct confrontation. President Riker nods and considers my hasty plan.

"Very good, very good. This arena has great potential for rich camera moments and it is quite the punishment for those whose rebellion was destroyed seventeen years ago. Go and smooth this over with your colleagues, Miss Thames. I promote you to Head Gamemaker as of this moment." I can barely thank the man enough; I'm stuttering my gratitude enough as it is. "Do not thank me, Head Gamemaker Thames. You have much to do as of yet." He dismisses me and I hurry back to the Gamemakers' tables, the data in hand.

**Well, it's back after its death in the Great SYOC Purge of 5/29/2012! Now a perfectly legal and non-interactive story. :) I don't really expect this, but if you reviewed a chapter it would mean a lot to me if you would post a new review in its place. Please don't try and write what you wrote last time- I know they were terrific and I don't want anyone to have to write all that again. This is just for the first two reapings chapters (I don't care if you want to review this prologue or not). Does this make me sound desperate?**

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District One male: Adrian Rain _16_ **(MyrtleFalls)**

District One female: Athena Monroe _18_ **(Call me cat333)**

District Two male: Gray Tanner _17_ **(nightfuries)**

District Two female: Flavia Baxter _17_ **(SportzDawg)**

District Three male: Newton 'Newt' Hillen _15_ **(DA Member Hogwarts)**

District Three female: Neon Watts _14 _**(d11olive-24)**

District Four male: Alexander 'Alex' Isis _17_ **(PenMagic)**

District Four female: Camilla Thyra _17_ **(Funny-Bunny-lover)**

District Five male: Octavian Amorous _14_ **(XMistressChaosx)**

District Five female: Delany Lavis _15_ **(MeganaLouise)**

District Six male: Chandler Mathews _13_ **(fractals123)**

District Six female: Lucia Greene _12_ **(Dark Sunshine Angel)**

District Seven male: Rowne Mercer _13_ **(Tayjay101)**

District Seven female: Laken Marx _15_ **(The Yellow Duckling)**

District Eight male: Tyman Gruiter_ 16_ **(thynerdgurl)**

District Eight female: Karlie Mills _14_** (Bitter Sweeet Lullaby)**

District Nine male: Alec Ryans _18_ **(thethirteenthwriter)**

District Nine female: Sarracenia 'Cenia' Trallon _15_ **(shadow bender 7271) **

District Ten male: Blue Anston _16_ **(Mari Tate)**

District Ten female: Ruby Elis_ 16_ **(t00 lazy to log in)**

District Eleven male: Skyford Al'Rand _13_ **(Chaos In Her Wake- me!)**

District Eleven female: Bay Farris _14_ **(Foxface5)**

District Twelve male: Luis Thomsen _18_ **(istheplacewhereIloveyou)**

District Twelve female: Sara Ross _17_ **(Thomas J. Flynn)**

Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favor!


	2. District Two Reapings

**Here we go- starting off with District Two! Our boy Gray is from nightfuries and our girl Flavia is from SportzDawg. R&R! :)**

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D2 MALE: GRAY TANNER

"What do you think you're doing, still in bed?" Granite storms through the room that I share with my fellow trainees, Pik and Watcher, and shoves Watcher from his bed as I blearily struggle to sit up. Pik has already leapt from his place and smirks at us as Granite claps him on the shoulder. Watcher groans and scrapes himself off the floor.

"Why are we getting up so early, today, Granite?" a soft voice asks from the doorway. All of us glance towards Anna, who's standing in the hallway with her hair going wild and her arms crossed over her chest. She and Darla are already up and dressed in the training uniforms, which means they must have already been partially awake when Granite stormed through their little dormitory. Anna never gets in trouble- she can get away with asking questions all the time. Granite turns towards her.

"Training, what else? That's the reason you all are here, isn't it?"

"Or maybe because you tricked our parents into letting you buy us, so you could train us. It's not like we had a say in it at all," Watcher mutters under his breath from the floor. But we're getting into our training outfits and following our adoptive father to the training halls. We have lived with Granite for as long as we can remember and then some. He's the only sort of guardian we know. And since he gives us lessons here, too, we can't even compare his personality with teachers. The only time we really go into the outside world is on reaping day, and we won't even be volunteering until next year.

Granite never hears Watcher's quiet retort, so he just starts setting up stations in his little arena. Anna follows him over to traps and immediately her fingers begin to fly as they tie an elaborate knot. Our mentor watches her for a few seconds and then begins barking orders at the rest of us. "Darla and Gray, grab some maces! Pik and Watcher, swords!" Watcher groans. He's the least skilled of us all- although by far the smartest, and he thinks that Granite pairs him up with Pik all the time just to get a kick out of watching my friend get beat up. Pik is no doubt Granite's favorite. He's like a muscled weapons prodigy- every blade, stone, or bow he touches, he can use it perfectly. And he doesn't even try to hide it. As he brushes past me, he slams into Watcher's shoulder.

"Don't say anything against our trainer again, or I'll smash your face into the ground so hard your nose will disappear," he hisses, "I'll beat you bad enough as it is!" I sigh. If Granite catches one of his apprentices interfering in another's fight, it's a five-mile run for everyone. Which usually Anna and I don't mind if it means helping our friend, but on reaping day it's just not worth it. I leave Watcher and go to the rack of maces where Darla is waiting. She's really good- more powerful than any of us but Pik- but she's a few cards short of a deck. She'll trail off in the middle of sentences, and according to Anna she hallucinates sometimes. So Granite sticks her with Watcher and me most of the time. I shiver as she raises her mace. Darla just creeps me out. The exercise is for me to get to a little platform while avoiding the mace Darla will be swinging. So I start to run. I jump and dodge the spiked ball, but Darla shoots out a foot and trips me.

"Drop the mace, Darla! Now, no weapons!" Granite shouts. I have to raise both my arms to deflect the girl's punches, and Granite keeps shouting at me. "Punch! Punch! You'll get punched in the arena, so punch in training!" I land a few wobbly right hooks before Darla loses it and wanders off. Why can't I match up to anyone else here? Granite huffs in irritation and calls and end to our training.

"We're almost late to the reaping! Single file line and we'll head over to the square!" As we walk, I notice every head turn our way.

"Are those that Tanner guy's students?"

"Is it true he bought them from families who didn't want them?"

"Are they volunteering this year or next?" We finally make it to the square and Anna glances around at all the people.

"I wish they'd talk to us instead of acting like we're freaks," she frowns. Granite pulls us together in a huddle.

"Now remember- you're not volunteering. Next year is your year." He's looking right at Pik. I don't want next year to be Pik's year- no, then Watcher and I will end up on the streets. I glare at the boy. Whatever respect I have for his skills vanishes under a tide of jealousy. How come he's the favorite? He's so overconfident he'd probably die within a minute!

The escort totters up to the stage on two-foot tall platform shoes. Watcher and I dash into our section, near the front of the platform, as the lady recites the Treaty of Treason. Wait… that's no woman. I almost burst out laughing, but I bite down on my knuckle when Watcher glances at me.

"Let us begin with the boys this year!" The… man… squeaks. I gulp. Our district has begun to volunteer- people choose to go to the Hunger Games, and that's what I'm trained for. Districts One and Four are starting to do the same. And next year should be my year. But there's no way I could make it against Pik; I have no chance NEXT year!

And as the very androgynous escort reads the name, I stand up. "I VOLUNTEER!" The crowd falls silent. I'm supposed to wait, but I just don't care. I glance back at Granite as I stride to the stage. And by the furious look on his face and the vein throbbing near his temple, he doesn't like what I've done. Oops.

D2 FEMALE: FLAVIA BAXTER

The chatters of the girls around me make my head throb. Really I shouldn't be here- my latest concussion hasn't completely healed- but I came anyway. My older brother Colton says that he could have played his victor card and gotten me a pass to stay home, but I refused. After Fray died… I feel like I should go to honor him. I loved my little brother more than anything. He would be standing with the fourteen-year-olds today if he hadn't gotten killed by that rat from Ten in the bloodbath. Even though he was twelve, he could have made it!

My angry reminiscing makes my head hurt even more, so I try to focus on the freaky Capitol guy standing onstage. The girls around me titter nervously with their friends about the guy onstage- one of Tanner's students- and wonder who plans to volunteer. Not me. No way, not with this concussion. I'll take Colton's advice in that respect. My older brother knows about head wounds- he's an expert even among the victors. His district partner died from one three years ago, leaving him to return home.

The man-woman thing onstage grotesquely sashays across to the crystalline orb containing the names of the girls out here in the crowd. It dips its manicured nails into the bowl and swirls them around.

"Get on with it!" a girl in front of me shouts. The escort shoots her a glare.

"Fine, then. District Two, your female tribute is… Flavia Baxter!" Everybody begins chattering again. About the Baxters, two kids in the Games- one survived. And one sadistic girl at home. And now that girl is walking up. My head pounds, but I remember Fray and clench my fists. My nails dig into my skin deep enough to draw blood. I walk up… slowly… slowly stepping forward, and grab the microphone from the creature.

"I'm Flavia, and there's no need to volunteer. I'll take this one, you wimpy morons." The girls who were planning to volunteer shriek, but the escort waves them off and announces me as the tribute. Colton raises from his chair behind me, but there's no use. I hold up one bloodstained hand and the crowd gasps as they see it. My male counterpart, however, doesn't bat an eye as we shake hands. My head threatens to spin as the mayor gives a little address and Gray Tanner and I are ushered into the Justice Building. I lay down on a couch in one of the visiting rooms and grit my teeth through the ache.

"Flavia, what were you thinking?" Colton hurries towards me, shirttails flapping.

"Absolutely nothing. I'll just get in there, kill off the people, and come home. Two out of three kids winning the games? Our parents have it pretty good."

"But we don't. We were his best friends, and he can't ever see us again." My heart freezes at the memory.

"Well you sure didn't act like it. You didn't even cry at his funeral, and he was our brother!" While on the other hand I had locked myself in my room until those Games were over. I almost starved to death that year. And Colton seemed to act like it was just a day in the park. Fray's death was so much more- 'the loss of a brother and a dear friend' doesn't even begin to say how much I hurt. And added to the concussions I keep getting, Fray's death almost killed me.

"I've told you so many times, sister, I've become numb to pain. So much death. So many nightmares… Anyway, I didn't kill our dog after the funeral!" I wince. I did do that. I felt better afterwards, too. Like I had killed the monster who killed by baby brother. My baby brother, who can't be here right now. I break down and start crying into Colton's shirt. "Don't worry, Flavia. I'm gonna be your mentor, anyway. It'll be all right!" I keep crying, and Colton pets my hair until my sobs start to sound a little like growls.

I don't even remember that Colton left, or realize it until Mom and Dad walk in. My father, Markus, sweeps me up in a hug- he's being careful of my injured head; the hug isn't as bear-like as usual.

"Daughter… Colton came home at your age and you will too. I know it. We won't lose you like Fray. Never again will I lose a child!" I smile up at him. He rocks me back and forth like he used to do when I was little and sweet. Not the world-hating sadistic thing I am today.

Hey, at least I have a sense of self.

Mom takes a little longer. She steps forward hesitantly and I stiffen in her light embrace. "I'm so sorry I haven't been there for you every step of the way, dearest daughter; now I can't ever ignore my follies again!" She cries and hugs me until the Peacekeepers come to take her away, and I feel a real surge of affection for her. I'll never leave them.

"You have no more visitors, Miss Baxter." A burly Peacekeeper addresses me.

"So let's get going! I want to be in that arena murdering kids and then back home before your stupid Capitol changes me!"

"Why, you little-" He raises his gloved fist to strike me, but Colton comes out of nowhere and grabs him in a headlock.

"If you hurt my sister, I will make sure you never see the light of day again," he hisses menacingly, "She's recovering from a concussion and I won't have her injured. Ever. She'll come home. And you're not going to spoil that!" I grin at him and he returns my weak smile as he tosses the guard to the side. And then we're off to the train. Time for the biggest torture of them all- the Capitol.

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**The next chapter will remain a secret... :) But while you're waiting, tell me what you thought of these guys! Personally I'm not too happy with this chapter, but you'll get to know everyone better later on, so don't worry. :) **


	3. District Nine Reapings

**Wow, the reviews are amazing. I love you all already! :)**

**Welcome all to the lovely grain district- District Nine, everybody! Thanks to shadow bender 7271 for our girl Cenia and thethirteenthwriter for our boy Alec! R&R! :)**

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D9 FEMALE: SARRACENIA 'CENIA' TRALLON

My father would not approve of what I'm doing. I know he wouldn't. But right now, I can't focus on that, however much it matters. Lolium crouches down beside the butcher's window, and I leap up on his shoulders as quick as a spider. This is the only way we can manage to keep our families- well, Lolium is a family of one- out of debtors' jail. The window slides open easier than I thought it would and I topple into the shop. Lolium stands up and climbs in behind me, his fingers leaving smudged marks on the windowsill. We'll have to clean that up or at least smear the prints beyond recognition. Even if the butcher can't pin us to this theft, he'll guess Lolium. Everyone knows him, either as the street rat or the joking boy.

The shop is empty save for the racks of salted meats. Two hams disappear from their shelves, and Lolium is brave enough to take a roasted chicken as well. We'll end up splitting that one later, before I go home. Father would recognize the chicken immediately, as this store is the only one that sells them, and he'll go and ask the butcher if I paid correctly. And we can't have that. He would be devastated if he knew I wasn't who he thought I was.

We slip out of the store as silently as we came, the slight breeze whipping my dark hair around my shoulders. My home is only two blocks from here, and it's not like Lolium has a set place of residence. Which means it's pretty funny watching the Peacekeepers try to find him when he's done something 'bad'. Soon we're laughing in front of my house and I open the creaking door.

"See you later, Cenia!" my friend calls in a loud whisper, and he disappears into the haze of morning. Father left already and I dump his dirty breakfast dishes into the rattling sink. The window is cracked again. Crud. Stretching a piece of tarp over it, I hear a voice from the little shack next door.

"Cenia!" another voice yelps, this time a bit louder. It's my friend Poa, also my next-door neighbor. I look up at her and smile, putting a finger to my lips at the same time. I don't want my family waking up with my ham and half of a chicken sitting out on the kitchen counter. Poa nods and disappears from view. When I return from hiding the ham in the pantry, she's standing in my dilapidated house. I hand her a chicken leg and we share a grin. It's not often we get really good food like this. Thanks to one of Lolium's street friends, we found out that the butcher's window was unlatched every fifth day, and we took advantage of the knowledge.

We lick the grease from our fingers as my older brother Noah walks into the main room. "Hey girls," he greets us. He and my mother Aster are used to finding my friends in the living room by now.

"Hi, Noah!" Poa says brightly, "Where are you going?"

"To see my girlfriend Marigold," he grins.

"Wait," I say, "I thought you were dating Syrill!"

"Naw, we broke up last week. Marigold's my girl." I frown at him. Father doesn't like my brother's carefree relationships.

"Is this Marigold Mariette?" Poa asks. Noah nods; I groan inwardly. Marigold Mariette is sixteen, a year older than me and a year younger than Noah, and she's the biggest brat I've ever met. Noah has ordered me to act civilized around her for a while now- I wonder how long he's had a crush on her? But the girl does nothing but get on my nerves with her idle chatter of fashion and money. I've considered slugging her before, but it's not worth the risk of Noah's wrath.

"Do you girls want to come with? We can drop you off at the square and meet you later for the reaping ceremony." I roll my eyes, but Noah drags me out the door and Poa follows. Ugh. I hope Lolium has already found his way to the city square, because I'll have to endure watching Noah play kissy-face if he hasn't.

We can see the wheat fields from the front door, beginning to shine in the late-morning sun, but it's only a half-hour walk to the city square. Nine has very compact settlements. And Marigold steps out of her house and runs toward Noah as we walk towards the Justice Building.

"Oh Noey!" I almost gag, and Poa can't help but laugh at my love-struck brother. Ew.

"C'mon, let's find Lolium," I say. My closest friend isn't hard to find, since he's taller than most of the boys our age. He waves at us and we push through the growing crowd towards him. The Peacekeepers force the boys and girls into separate spaces, but we can still hold a conversation over the little gap.

"So, how was the chicken?" he jokes.

"Great!" I laugh back. Just then, the Peacekeeper shushes us and I reluctantly go to the fifteen-year-old girls' section and turn my attention to the steps of the Justice Building, where the Capitol escort has arrived. Her long scarlet curls bounce in the wind and her smile is huge. Roxana Rellinger has been our escort for two years now, and I know what's coming. Roxana runs through the Treaty of Treason so fast I don't hear a single distinct word and plunges her hand into the girls' reaping bowl almost before I can blink. She's like a butterfly on steroids.

"Sarracenia Trallon!" My heart almost stops. Every year I've had to take tesserae, but much less than some kids out there- my father's hard work and my thievery see to that. I thought the odds would be in my favor. I clench my fists and my jaw and begin what Lolium and I have nicknamed the March of Death. My mask almost shatters. This had better not be my death.

D9 MALE: ALEC RYANS

I'm pushed to the front row of the reaping lines by the other eighteen-year-olds, but I won't stand for that. I'm not going to stand next to some Peacekeeper while this stupid escort reads out the names of two kids sent to die. So I shoulder my back to the rear of my section. Nobody protests- they know I'll hurt them.

My friend Dominic passes me an unopened bottle and grins. I pull out the cork with my teeth and gulp down half of the liquor without blinking or coughing. So what if I'm drunk for the reaping ceremonies? It's not like they haven't killed a kid before. If they try to take me down I'll be ready. I've been arrested plenty of times before, and most of the Peacekeepers get their alcohol at the same place I do. I look like I'm twenty-one. A little haggard, maybe, but the addiction made me old. I don't care. I don't have parents to care either. I do whatever I want. I'm Alec, king of the alleys and companion of the bottle. And I don't care what people try and do to me. I'll just hurt them more. Like that one Jullia girl who made fun of me. She learned how bad my drunken wrath could be.

The escort steps forward to the glittering orbs filled with paper and plucks one out. Her voice is so irritating. I take another swig from the bottle and hand it back to Dominic, who grins. He doesn't drink yet, he just gets my drinks to me.

"Sarracenia Trallon!" Nice name. I smirk. Wait, I know her. She's Lolium's friend, the one who he goes stealing with. I'll have to keep an eye on that kid for a while, make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. I told him about the butcher's window a few days back, and he gave me a few bottles in return. I can't let a helper go unassisted. The girl seems strong, though, walking up to the escort without a single tear in her eyes. Maybe Nine will have a shot this year.

The lady goes to the boy's bowl now, spearing a name on her fake nails. Her voice is so irritating. I swipe the bottle from Dominic again. She announces some kid's name in her squeaky, chirping way. "Alec Ryans!" Too bad for me, I guess. I'll go down fighting. And I'll make sure people notice me.

Dom nods as I step forward still holding the liquor. I'll give them all a show. That's all this is, isn't it? A big show. So I'll play along. I shove a Peacekeeper out of my way and drain the rest of the alcohol before smashing the vessel on the cobblestones. Running a hand through my shaggy black hair, I advance. The alcohol's already starting to affect me and my walk is a drunken swagger. Even better. The girl, Sarra-something, is staring at me, and a chunk of the girls who are still in their sections are, too. I don't care if they think I look good. I don't care at all.

The escort seems nervous, but I just assume my position. There's no point trying to fight back, it doesn't work. Never does. It didn't work for my parents in the Dark Days. They fought and died, leaving me alone on the streets, only knowing a few Spanish words. I stopped caring and it kept me alive. Take that, Capitol. The drinking just was my way to make it all blur together.

I shake Lolium's friend's hand, holding the shattered end of the bottle in the other. The logo on the bottle is some sort of horse standing next to a fountain. I hope a Peacekeeper steps on the other shards. The stupid escort takes us into the Justice Building and then to the visiting rooms, where I know exactly what will happen. I won't get any visitors. I've told the other kids on the streets to never come see me if this happens. There's no point and I'm not interested. And I'm right. Nobody comes to see me.

The escort is back in my room within a few minutes with another woman in tow. The only victor from Nine, Avia Brook. Her wheat- colored hair frizzed around her head and her eyes were narrowed. Was she examining me, or was that just her natural expression? I can't remember her Games.

"Why are you here, woman? Are you watching me like I'm some sort of freak show? I've had them do that before. But I noticed and then after I was done with them they never came back." The woman doesn't leave.

"I've seen those Games in ways that you won't imagine until you're there, boy. You'll want my help. I'm bringing home a victor this year."

"We'll see about that, lady. Leave me alone." I slam the door behind Avia and the Capitol escort. I don't care, and now I want more liquor.

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**Yeah, this district was a very interesting one to write for. Two terrific tributes. Well, you won't know the next district until it's up, so for now tell me what you thought! :D**


	4. District Six Reapings

**What lovely comments you readers give! :) I love you guys. I did have a few questions: Yes, I will be holding reapings for each district. Yes, these may seem rushed. Because they can get a little tedious sometimes. :/ But please enjoy!**

**Now for the quaint District Six, where transportation is built and sent out to the Capitol and the districts! Our girl Lucia is from Dark Sunshine Angel and our boy Chandler is from fractals123. R&R! :)**

**Sorry for any typos, I wrote this in the backseat of a car on a bumpy road on a very old laptop. :/**

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D6 MALE: CHANDLER MATHEWS

I stagger out of bed when I hear the downstairs door open, but I collapse as soon as I take a step. Stupid sports injuries. There are so many people who think I can't play sports at all, and I took up playing ball in the back alleys with them to prove them wrong. Maybe I should have thought through that one a little more, because when I got knocked in the knee by our third baseman, my friend Friedrich, I think it pulled some muscle somewhere. I limp out of my room to the front door, where my mom has just arrived home from her shift at the factory. I don't understand why she works- I mean, Dad is the manager of the same factory and we're plenty wealthy. She doesn't need to take these night jobs.

Although her absence makes her homecomings happier. My little sister Michelle runs towards her with her arms outstretched, and Mom swings her up into the air. She starts singing._ "Michelle, ma belle…"_ It's an old song, and it has words in some other language. French, I think. I can't believe she remembers it, but she has always said she liked music before the Dark Days. I'm not half as interested in songs as her and Michelle. I take after my dad, Drexel- in looks and personality. We're much more… cerebral.

Dad should be out here soon, but I'm hungry already and it's not worth exhausting Mom more just for food. I don't need help, anyway. I take out a pan from the cabinet and start cracking eggs into it. Dad comes downstairs with his blond hair flattened on one side and grabs a bite before he dashes off to work; I grin after he leaves. Normally he ends up late to work, but today he gets off early. The reason for his half-day is awful, though. After breakfast is over, my leg is feeling much better, although still aching, and I head out. My parents don't really keep track of me that well, so they don't know I go down to the alleys every day. Friedrich's family is just as rich as mine, but they live on the other side of town. We meet here in the middle.

"Hey, Chandler!" There he is. He seems preoccupied, though. I hate having things weighing on my mind, and now this is going to bug me until I find out what's going on. "How's your leg doing?" Really? The one time I try and figure out someone's feelings and it's not even a big deal.

"I'm fine. A little stiff and sore, but I'm fine. You?"

"Ready to go down to the ball alley," he says, "I've got a girl with me, too. She can tag along, right?"

"Um…" I'm not good with girls. Or anyone besides my family and Friedrich, really. "Sure, why not?" He dashes down the street and retrieves a red-haired girl who laughs as he pulls her along. I'm really not good with girls. I'm already clamming up. Soon Friedrich, laughing, leads the way down to our little field.

"Hey, who's that with you guys?" one of the other boys asks Friedrich and me.

"This is Electra," Friedrich says proudly. The girl smiles. One of the guys- Tyler- leans towards me.

"Seems a bit too happy, doesn't he?" I nod. "Hope she doesn't ruin the game."

"She's a girl. It's not like she'll play or anything." The boy motions towards her.

"I think she heard you, man!" Sure enough, Electra is marching towards me angrily. Friedrich runs after her.

"Whoa, Ectra! Chandler's not that bad. He's just blunt sometimes!" She doesn't relax, and Friedrich makes a face at me and escorts her from the alley.

"See you later, guys!" We all mutter goodbyes at him and other boys start peeling away from the game.

"I guess she ruined it." One of the guys- his name is Sam, I think- says as he leaves. I turn and walk away as well. I need to get home before the reapings. I make it in plenty of time, but that's not what I was worried about. I dress in a button-down shirt and khaki trousers, punk down on my bed, and pull out a book. _Sing, O Muse, of the storm-tossed man…_

"CHANDLER! YOU HAVE TO GO OR YOU'LL BE LATE AGAIN!" my mom yells from the door. I can't believe she's still awake. Nervous, I guess. I sure am. I drop the book I got sucked into- he was just escaping from the witch, too! - and run downstairs. Last year I was late and everyone focused on me when I got to the plaza. It was terrible. The streets are empty. Oh crap oh crap oh crap. I tried to plan for delays like this. Hopefully my idea works!

I'm there before the escort starts this year, and I heave a sigh of relief. Friedrich grins at me. He seems happier now that he's freed from that Electra girl (I will never understand why guys want to be around girls so much), but it might just be a nervous smile.

The escort is probably on the strongest drugs the Capitol has to offer. He speaks with slurred words and he sways as he walks. Like the morphling addicts I see sometimes, but even stronger. The Treaty of Treason is barely understandable, much less audible through the giggles. Friedrich elbows me in the ribs and we both laugh as the man totters across the stage. Then the man stuffs his hand into the reaping bowl for the boys. I hope it's not one of the boys from the field. Oh, please not. Most of them have taken out so much tesserae they were sick with anxiety this morning.

"Chandler Mathews!" I feel like I've been punched in the gut by a District Two tribute. This can't be happening. This can't be happening. I look around wildly, and see Friedrich beginning to freak out as well.

While I'm hallucinating, I might as well win the Games. I at least have a shot. And I'll be the first thirteen-year-old to do so. I step forward into the gnawing jaws of realization. This is no dream. But I'll still win.

D6 FEMALE: LUCIA GREENE

The doll is far from cute. The shop is a total abomination! My mother said it was the best toy store in all of District Six, but now I see the truth. There are just pricey things, none of which are sufficiently cute. I look at the horrid doll for a moment longer, considering its ugly face. If it had a smaller nose, more hair- a nice light brown like mine, and bluer eyes… it would be passable. But it doesn't and I hate it. I turn to my mother.

"Leena!" She hovers over me fretfully, wringing her hands.

"Darling, I told you to call me Mother, or Mommy!" I snort and cross my arms. Those are not cute and I will not call her by such silly epithets. Leena is a much prettier name.

"This is not cute. I have to make it cute." Leena bites her lip. That's not very cute either, but I can't try and make my own mother cute. That is too strange.

"I'm sorry, dear, but we can't buy the doll. Your father's pension doesn't go that far."

"But you've always gotten things for me before. Ever since he got hurt, we've had to do un-cute things! Why did he have to run into that train?" Leena tears up at the mention of my father's 'accident'.

"Dearest Lucia, you must not speak that way! That train was derailed and he couldn't know what was going to happen! You're lucky we got to keep the house!"

"I'm sorry, Leena," I whisper. I reach up and smooth a piece of her auburn hair behind her ear. My mother is very cute. I love her. "Can we go back home so I can get my cutest doll to show the toy store what they should sell?"

"No, dear. The reaping starts soon. Which doll is the prettiest?" I pout. I told her not three days ago!

"Halliea, remember?" She has perfect green eyes like mine and the same brown hair. I'm very cute. I have to be; otherwise I would have to make myself either cute or dead. Dead is not cute.

"Ah yes." The Peacekeeper in a white uniform marches up to Leena.

"Ma'am, we are beginning to bring children to the plaza." Leena nods and turns me over to the man. He is not cute at all. I dash back to Leena.

"No, dear. You have to go with the man!" He picks me up from behind and I twist around snapping at him. Why is such an ugly thing touching me? He carries me to the section of the plaza at the very back of the crowd, far away from the stage. Another man gets up there and begins to talk. Is he from the Capitol? I've heard that's the cutest place of them all! I strain to look at him. He's not that cute. I hope there are ways to make things very cute in the Capitol. The not-cute Capitol man begins to speak, and I can't hear what he says. This is terrible! What if the Capitol is not really that cute? Did I miss things when Leena took me out of school? She said it was because I hoarded things, but I got to stay with my cute things all the time and play. Now I wonder if school might have been a good thing.

"Chandler Mathews!" It's the boy tribute. He gets to go to the Capitol. He's not ugly, either. He has short blond hair and he's not starving like the ugly beggars are. I turn my head to the side. He looks just a bit older than me. He shakes the ugly man's hand and turns to face the crowd. Some of the boys seem sad, but I don't care. He's lucky to go to the cutest place.

The ugly man goes to the other reaping bowl and pulls out a girl's name. "Qantas Keen!" An older girl, about sixteen, steps forward, her eyes already red with tears. She stumbles up the steps, chestnut hair flowing behind her, and shakes Chandler's hand. The Capitol man talks for a few seconds more and then asks, "Are there any volunteers?" The plaza is totally silent. The tributes face the crowd. Qantas is not cute. She should not be allowed to represent District Six in the Hunger Games. The escort opens his mouth to finalize the tributes when I open my mouth.

"I VOLUNTEER!" The district seems absolutely silent as I run forward, my footsteps pattering on the gravel ground. My mother shrieks from the audience and I run onstage heedlessly. The Qantas girl gapes, but does not hesitate to run back to her friends. The escort looks equally surprised, and Chandler is staring openly.

"And what is your name?" The man asks.

"I'm Lucia Greene," I chirp, "and you are not cute at all." I'm going to the Capitol!

"Well, here are your tributes, District Six! Lucia Greene and Chandler Mathews!" I'm led into the very cute Justice Building, where Leena bursts into my new room and gives me a hug.

"What were you thinking? My darling, why? I love you so, and these Games are so dangerous!"

"She wasn't cute enough." Leena mouths the words 'wasn't cute enough' slowly, like she doesn't understand. Then she cries and hugs me. I motion to the Peacekeepers to take her away. As they drag her out, she shoves a butterfly pin into my hand. A token! It's the cutest thing she owns, too. I smile and turn it over and over in my fingers. I'm going to see the Capitol!

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**So, tell me what you think, because I know you guys are good at that! :) And a little extra thing here... tell me 1) what song Chandler's mom was singing and 2) what book Chandler was reading.**

**Here's another tidbit. I was on vacation this weekend in the (future) location of District Twelve. :) And the entire time I was there I kept thinking about that. This story just takes over my life...**


	5. District Five Reapings

**So this is the first chapter I wrote after the original story was deleted. :/ Our girl Delany is from MeganaLouise and our boy Octavian is from XMistressChaosx. R&R! :)**

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D5 FEMALE: DELANY LAVIS

"Come on, where are they?" The square is empty, even though in three hours it will be packed full of people. And I'll be squished right in the middle. My stomach gives a little squirm. Crowds only remind me of Leighann, who contracted a serious illness after the reaping three years ago and died- she was fourteen and I was twelve. I've been so awkward ever since. Just to accent my thoughts, a man walks past the bench I am sitting on and I duck my head nervously, fiddling with my dress's cream-colored hem. He glances at me and I shuffle my feet in the dust. Shaking his head, the man passes by. I've always been so awkward, even when Leighann was alive. I mean, the three friends I have I met when I was really little, and they're the only non-family human beings I talk to. And I can't find them anywhere. We've met in the square on the morning of the reaping for two years now, but nobody's been late before. I fidget some more.

"Delany!" A mass of red hair obscures my vision as Jesy tackles me with a hug. The few other people in the square all turn and stare at us; I look at the ground until they all look away again. Jesy grins up at me. "I think we're all going to be fine. I mean, it's not like we have tons of tesserae!" I have been voicing my concerns about the reaping for the past few days, as I have every year.

"Yeah," Harry says, patting me on the shoulder, "I know plenty of kids whose names are in that bowl over fifty times, and we've each got, what- maybe fifteen slips each? The odds are in our favor, guys." Harry is the logical one here, always trying to make peace between Jesy and Beth, who are always sort of competing.

"Well, with Five's luck it'll be one of us and they'll die in the bloodbath," Beth says, her dark hair falling over her eyes. She's a dreary one, especially compared to Jesy's general cheeriness.

"Come on, Beth, can't you be happy for once?" Even I tire of her relentless realism on reaping day.

"On reaping day? The hardest time to be happy? No way. Anyway, if I'm more pessimistic now, I'll be happier if we all get through. Harry will definitely have it easiest out of our little group- he's our only boy." Harry allows himself a weak smile at that one.

"Well, come over to my house and get something to eat!" They chorus their assent and follow me the few blocks to my house. I can see the lights on from here- Mom is up and cooking for everyone, and she is pretty much used to unexpected drop-ins from Harry, Jesy, and Beth. So there will be extra food this morning.

"Mommy! Dee brought her friends!" Barley shrieks as I walk through the door. The light of the house is comforting, especially after the cloudy skies outside. Jesy swoops my youngest sister into a hug and she shrieks with giggles. My sisters' laughter is precious to me now that I have two instead of three. Lydia is sitting on a stool, with Mom braiding her dark blonde hair into two plaits. She waves happily from her seat, and Harry and Beth wave back. She doesn't say anything, though. Lydia's one of the quietest girls I know, and one of the most mature too. Mom finishes braiding her hair and walks over to me.

"How are you feeling, sweetheart?" She pecks me on the forehead.

"Fine." I probably don't confide in Mom as much as I should. I join her at the kitchen counter and dip pieces of bread into egg whites and cinnamon, trying to make as much French toast as I can. My friends and I are teenagers, after all; we eat like pigs. I bring a pile of food to the table and it's gone in under three minutes. I leave Mom to make another batch and sit at the table with my friends instead.

"Your cooking has gotten better," Harry remarks dryly.

"Yeah, if I'm reaped I'll be glad to say this was my last meal in Five," Beth says. The entire house goes quiet and stares at her. She raises her hands. "Sorry, sorry!" The tension in the air is suddenly palpable.

A stout, bald man descends the stairs. "Dad!" I cry out and run to him. I think I'm closer to my father than to anyone else, even Lydia and Barley. He ruffles my light brown hair and kisses Mom on the cheek.

"It seems that my family has grown overnight!" he chuckles, seeing my friends at the table. Everyone laughs. He checks his watch. "Whoa, only half an hour until the reaping, and there is rain on the way! We had better head out." My mother bids me goodbye and I hug my sisters. In Five we're not forced to attend the reapings until we're eligible. My sisters are staying home, but Dad escorts my friends and me back to the square. We check in, and Harry goes to the male fifteens' section. Beth and Jesy go ahead of me to join the other girls. I, however, hang back with Dad for a moment.

"Still nervous around crowds, Dee?" he says with a bit of a faraway look in his eyes. He's nervous. I bite my lip.

"What if I'm reaped?"

"Then you'll come back to us. Love is a stronger power than death, darling. You'll come home again." A Peacekeeper ushers me away and I rejoin my friends. The escort is nowhere in sight, but there's a red and white circle onstage.

"PIKACHUUUUU!" A man, all yellow with lightning bolt tattoos, bursts onstage screaming the Treaty of Treason with random words like 'Charizard' thrown in. "LADIES FIRST!" What is with this guy? Everyone holds their breath.

"DELANY LAVIS!" I shuffle awkwardly around the girls all numbly staring at me. Then, hands clammy, I walk towards the stage; when I trip on the stairs the tears are freed.

D5 MALE: OCTAVIAN AMOROUS

I can see my little brother standing among the twelve-year-olds, hulking over them all with his muscular, tall body. Everyone says he could win the Games when he's older, and he trains like a maniac from Two. The escort is obviously a nutcase and the girl is freaking out, so I find it much more beneficial to focus on my not-so-little brother Onyx than to see some poor girl get sent to her death. I shiver in the misty air and rub my hands up and down my arms. I've never been strong, and never even average. Staying out here much longer could easily give me some sort of hacking cough or it could affect my gimpy walk and make my limp even more pronounced. Sometimes I wish that Onyx could give me some of his mass. My teeth chatter and I shake my damp blond hair out of my eyes. Can't this freakishly obsessed Capitol guy pick some poor kid to send to the arena already? I shiver again and wheeze a little. Crap, I hope that's just my normal frail wheezing instead of the illness cough. No, no, no, not now, please not now. The yellow man squeals again and rushes over to the boys' reaping bowl, shoving his hand deep into the pile and reading out the poor kid's name. Nobody steps up, so the guy reads it again. No answer. He opens his mouth a third time.

"OCTAVIAN AMOROUS! PIKACHUUU!" My head reels as the name registers. I am going to be a tribute in the Seventeenth Hunger Games. And I can't show them that I think I can live. My stomach churns as I step forward, my bad foot catching on several ankles as I make my way to the open paths. The fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, and eighteen year olds all stare at me as I limp up to the red and white stage. They all call me the cripple kid; some of them even think my family is inbred. That's just… ugh. They won't know I've been playing them all along. They give me scraps when I pass their houses with my lone friend Napoleon; I give those scraps to stray dogs because I don't need them. They see me and just continue their conversations because they don't think I can hear or understand. That kid right there sitting with his friends in the seventeens' section- he has two girlfriends and they're both pregnant. That girl in the crowd- she drove her parents' shop into bankruptcy because she spent all their money on drugs. I have my leverage, and just because I pay attention to the people who think I'm the stupid cripple. And I'm too sly to give that up now when I'm being uprooted from all I've ever known.

I see Onyx glaring at me with a cold smile. He won't volunteer for me, no matter how much we actually care for each other. Napoleon knows how sly I am- I've got more potential for troublemaking than Hermes and Loki combined. And he will trust me to use that in the arena just as I've trusted him with everything I have.

"And you are?" the escort says. Did I say I volunteered? What an idiot. I cough a bit and adjust my gimpy foot before I speak. Sympathy sponsors will flock to me.

"Oct-Oct-Octavian Amorous," I weakly reply. He gazes at me a little less insanely than before and 'helps' me to shake hands with the girl. She's a year older than me, I think. Before I can adjust to being in front of everyone, the freak escort herds us into the visiting rooms. Napoleon slips in beside me after just a few minutes.

"Well, at least you've got a chance! It's about time your true colors showed through!" We both laugh. I mean, half the kids out there will be just begging for death, but I won't.

"I'll s-see you in a few weeks, all right?" He nods and walks out. That was easier than I thought.

My family shoves through the door next and my mother's perfume almost suffocates me. I'm able to hug her back before I start coughing. Not my entire act is an act. "Oh, my poor baby!" she cries. I just lay my head on her shoulder and let her heartbeat comfort me like it has ever since I can remember. She eventually releases me and I wheeze for a second. My dad doesn't come forward at all, just looks at me. He's my brother's father, all right. They're not made for words. Onyx still has something to say, though. He remains in the room after my father and mother leave. When he grabs my forearm, I'm shocked in more ways than one. One, my brother isn't one for familial contact, and two, this seems a bit harsher than he normally is. To me, that is. I might be a lot like some of the kids he beats up, but I am his brother and that status means something to Onyx.

"I don't care if everyone pegs you as a bloodbath, Octavian- you're my big brother and if you don't come home I'll kill you!" I allow a small smile.

"I would prefer it if you rethought that one, Onyx." He blinks in confusion, but finally he gets it and nods. I pat him on the back tentatively and he makes his way to the door. I fidget in the lonely room. I want to see my competition.

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**I, personally, didn't like the way this chapter turned out. I was super tired when I wrote... most of it. The escort was fun, though. Thank XMistress Chaosx for him. :) But tell me what you thought! :D**


	6. District Eleven Reapings

**Hopefully I'll be back up to where I was (in terms of alerts/reviews) by the time I leave for New York in about a week. Since I will be gone for two weeks, I plan to have all the reapings done by then. The whole SYOT-purging thing really set me back on that one, and a ton of stories are having a whale of a time trying to recover alerts and reviews. Yeah. Fun. Anyway, on a happier note, our girl Bay is from Foxface5 and our boy Skyford was made by... me. So don't get too attached to him. :) R&R!**

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D11 FEMALE: BAY FARRIS

"Bay, why do we have to work today?" my youngest sister, Cassia, says as she tugs on my overalls. I sigh. It's Reaping Day- why do we still have to work? Brushing the black locks away from her forehead, I pull my hands out of the strawberry plants and stand up.

"Because otherwise the district won't get any profit and we'll go hungry, sis," I say, repeating the words that the Peacekeepers say all the time. It's not like we already go hungry. Most of the time my stomach growls during the night anyway. "Although it's not always boring." Strawberry harvests are the worst. Everyone is bent over to reach the little plants and the sun is beating down on us even in the morning. I stretch as I whistle out. A few curious mockingjays begin to settle on the hedges nearby. On the other side of me, my two older siblings also take a short break.

"I don't think they know that tune yet, Bay!" Olive says, grinning and singing a tune our grandma sings when we're all home at night. When she feels up to it, that is. One intrepid bird repeats the notes in its sweet trill. I giggle. That's why I don't work in the trees quite yet- I can't signal the other workers. Cassia grins and bends back over her section of berry plants, but Olive and my brother Ash aren't done with me yet. Olive sings Grandma's song over and over, while Ash gets some of the mockingjays to follow his baritone harmonies. I smile and work a little faster. The music helps everyone along. I wish Mom and Dad worked with us, but they were promoted to the orchards the year before Cassia started working. That was when she was eight and I was twelve. Now she's ten and I'm fourteen.

"Bay!" A light voice drifts through the hot early-summer air and I stand up so fast I get dizzy. It's my friend Sircha shouting at me from across the fields. I turn to Ash; at age seventeen he's the oldest one in our harvest section.

"Yeah, you can go. We've only got ten minutes until we get off for the day." I leap over the rows of berries to join my friends. Sircha's dark hair is frizzing in all directions. She rolls her eyes when she sees my hair, tightly braided in little rows all over my head. We've tried to get her hair to cooperate, but it's got more personality than Sircha does! Jayde is standing next to her, fidgeting. I notice some bruises on her arm.

"What happened?" She shrugs it off.

"Oh, the Peacekeepers caught me out after curfew again." I wince, but start to grin. She's the most adventurous twelve-year-old I know.

"Why didn't you take me with you?" We laugh. Sircha turns around and begins walking back towards the little community we all live in.

"C'mon, guys, we have to get Hayden and then go to the reapings!" After all the trouble Jayde and I manage to get into we don't want to give them another reason to punish us. At least in Eleven the Peacekeepers are pretty lax during the summertime.

"Can you drop me by my house first? I don't want to go to the main city in this outfit!" We all giggle.

"Aw, you live right next door to Hayden, you think we won't make you change?" Sircha jokes. More laughs. We won't think about the Games now. Not now. I dash into my old house and find the room I share with Olive and Cassia. The closet is shared too, and I have to dig through both of my sisters' clothes to find an acceptable outfit. I pull on the long-sleeved white dress and smooth out the embroidered flowers. I'll have to be careful with it on the way to the Justice Building.

Hayden is standing with Jayde and Sircha when I get back outside. I race towards my lifelong friend, leaping up to get my arms around his neck. He stumbles off-balance for a moment and then hugs me back.

"And the guys think I need to have more outgoing friends!" he says, referring to the older boys on his harvest team, "You ready to head out?" We joke all the way to the main square, a two-hour walk. The Peacekeepers even smile when they see us laughing together and Hayden goes to get us cups of water. I gulp mine down and say goodbye to my friends. Jayde will be with the twelves, Sircha with the thirteens, and I with my fellow fourteen-year-olds. Hayden is my age, but he has to go with the other boys. But I chat with the girl next to me- her name is Reanna and she's freaking out- until the escort steps up.

"You all know that I hate this district. Oh well, hopefully I can get promoted this year." I shake off his insults and keep talking to Reanna. I notice our dark skin is the exact same shade of brown. Then Reanna nudges my arm; I shut my mouth and whip back to face the Capitol man with the anger management issues. He has his hand in the girls' reaping bowl and the girls take a collective gasp as he draws out a slip of paper. There's Olive, standing in the seventeens' section with her friend Tanna. Don't let it be Olive or Jayde or Sircha. Please please not any of them.

"Would Bay Farris get up here?" Tears spring to my eyes immediately. Everyone turns and looks at me in grief, but none charge up to volunteer. My knees shake as the Peacekeepers nudge me from my section into the open pathways. I wobble my way up to the stage, the realization punching me in the gut over and over. The escort looks me over and says, "Oh. Let's hope the boy is victor material." I cover my eyes to hide the tears.

D11 MALE: SKYFORD AL'RAND

"Are we really going to do this?" I ask my best friend, Tholian. He adjusts his tie like it's choking him. At least, being in the orphanage, Warden Jarrell doesn't really care about what her charges look like.

"Do you want to go through with it? I mean, the poor kid's gonna have his heart broken when he realizes-"

"I'll do it. You were the one who needs this experiment, anyways. It could be the ticket to get your mom to the Capitol and find her a cure for the disease." He nods anxiously.

"So is it time to go yet?"

"Yeah. Do you need to get back to the orphanage and go to the reapings with them?"

"Naw, Jarrell doesn't care." I shake a few short dreadlocks from my eyes. Tholian shrugs and we stroll to the square. Only six more reapings and I'll be free, how about that? Poor Tholian has seven, and sometimes I wish he was my age so we'd be free at the same time. But it was my choice to save him from that gang, and even if I don't understand half of what he says I'll stick with my friend. I mean, really: his mom is dying from some disease and the doctor told us she needs to go to the Capitol. There's a contest to find some answer to some psychological question that gives enough money as a prize for Tholian's mom to make the trip, so we're going to find the answer. I'm going to help my friend no matter what it takes.

The Peacekeepers haven't started separating kids, so Tholian and I mess around a bit- imitating Peacekeepers, making faces behind their backs, that sort of stuff. A few of the kids standing around notice and I grin at a few cute girls. My friend directs a face at me when he catches me in the act.

"What are you boys doing?" The day darkens as a Peacekeeper's shadow falls over Tholian and me. I look up and grin apologetically. I'm tongue-tied, though. _Not good with explanations. Not good with explanations._

_ "_We're… ah… just having a bit of fun, sir," Tholian springs to my rescue. The man smiles.

"Well, start heading to your sections. The reapings will begin in a few minutes. I look around. Boy, this place filled up fast!

"So, we're going through with it?" Tholian checks again.

"Yep. This'll crack that human-emotions question for sure! We'll get the money and you mom will be cured!" We nod, albeit nervously, and dash off to our respective age groups.

The escort comes out in what seems like a cloud of grumpiness. "You all know that I hate this district. Oh well, hopefully I can get promoted this year." I turn back to Tholian and he shrugs. This escort has been here since before I was born, and he hasn't ever gotten away. I bet he loves this place. He calls out some girl's name and a trembling girl steps forward from the fourteen-year-olds. An older girl slumps down in the fifteens' section. I think this Bay girl's sister just fainted. Nobody else steps up to volunteer, and the escort openly says that he thinks the girl will die. She covers her face, but the man steps to the boys' reaping ball. Tholian and I share a look.

"Valerian Orris." He reads the boy's name like a statement, not like a name. A muscular boy, about sixteen, shoulders his way up to the stage. "Now I don't like having to say this, but it is protocol. Are there any volunteers?"

_One. Two. Three._ "I VOLUNTEER!" Tholian and I walk out of the crowd, Tholian writing down the boy's reaction in a small notepad. Exactly what we need to answer the question and win the prize money! We reach the stage at the same time and stand there grinning while the escort looks us up and down. The Valerian kid starts to leave and the girl stares at us from the other side.

"All right, one of you buzz off," says the escort.

"It's all right. This was just an experiment. We'll both go," I pipe up. Valerian stops dead in his tracks, staring at us in a look of horror and fear. The Peacekeepers look at each other and snarl towards us. One steps forward, chasing Tholian and me back up the steps.

"You can't do that. It's against the rules. One volunteer has to remain." Valerian scrambles back to his seat, obviously relieved. Tholian and I look at each other.

"But… but it was just an experiment," my friend stutters, panicking, "It was just an experiment!" The escort walks over to us and stares us down. I cross my arms. We won't go. It's just an experiment. All right, a really really mean experiment. But it was meant to save a dear life!

"This one is stronger." He pushes Tholian off the stage, leaving me alone. The Peacekeepers drag my friend away. He keeps screaming until one of the brutes shoves his hand over Tholian's mouth. "Now, little boy, what's your name?"

"Skyford Al'Rand." The reply is automatic, since I'm asked so many times on the streets and in the orphanage.

"Well, Eleven, here are your tributes. Bay Farris and Skyford Al'Rand. I hope you realize you're not getting another victor." I shake the girl's hand and to the dismay of the district we're ushered from view into the colossal Justice Building.

Tholian is the first one in my room. "I'm so sorry, man. So sorry. We were so dumb, why did we even do that?"

"It's okay. Your mom will have the money to get help now. Focus on her. I'll be fine!"

"Oh, come off it. No thirteen-year-old has ever won! And I don't have the information anymore. The Peacekeeper ripped it up!" My heart drops.

"I'll be the first. We'll use my money to help your mom. I promise. Give me your notepad." Miserably, Tholian hands me the tattered book. I've got my token now.

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**So tell me what you think! :D **


	7. District Eight Reapings

**Well, yay! It seems like people are re-finding this story, and that makes me happy. No little thing like removal will stop a writer, apparently! :D Anyway, we're in District Eight now- our girl Karlie is from Bitter Sweeet Lullaby and our boy Tyman is from thynerdgurl. R&R! :)**

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D8 FEMALE: KARLIE MILLS

"C'mon, Sherry, you've got to get up! C'mon!" I shake my older sister, but she only moans and covers her head with her pillow. "It's you last reapings, Sherry, just get up! You never used to be this slow!" Finally she sits up, her dark, curly hair flattened on one side. I giggle, but she reaches out and rubs two fingers on the sleeve of my blouse.

"Didn't you wear this to both reapings before? It's so babyish!" I bite my lip.

"You're the one who got it for me two years ago and it was big then, so I just kept it!" Sherry rolls her eyes and tugs on one of my strawberry-blond braids.

"And I suppose you're going to tell me that I was the one who told you to wear your hair in braids?" I cross my arms.

"You used to help me braid it." Sherry rolls her eyes.

"Why are you in my room anyways? MOOOM!" I hear my mom's voice from downstairs; she's gotten pretty much used to the fact that Sherry doesn't exactly get along too well with me anymore.

"Karlie? Will you please leave your sister alone?" I love Mom, but she can be a little harsh sometimes. I sigh and rush down the stairs to where my mom and dad are sitting at the table drinking coffee. Mom has a pile of mending on her lap and Dad is reading the local newspaper. I love when our family is not struggling with debt. Everyone's so much more relaxed.

"Can I have a sip, Dad?" He smiles at me from behind his paper and hands over his coffee mug. I slurp down a drink and hand it back. My mother's forehead creases as she frowns.

"You don't need coffee at your age, Karlie; you're a growing girl!" I hug her and her annoyance dissipates. "If you're ready to go you can find your friends before the reaping." I grin and run out of the house. As the door shuts behind me, I hear Sherry yell goodbye from upstairs. We may not be poor, but we can't quite afford a house with soundproof walls. Everyone knows what others are saying.

"Hey! Leo!" The older girl turns from a group of her friends and waves to me.

"I'll see you guys later," she says to her protesting companions. Then she strides over to me, a nervous smile on her face. "How're you doing, Karlie? Ready for the third reaping?" I giggle.

"No way! But I bet you're doing better than I am, you've only got three reapings left! I've got five!" Leo smiles.

"You'll be fine. The odds are in your favor, after all!" I hug her. "Have you seen Jamie?" I shake my head. Our other friend is nowhere to be found. "Let's look for him, then!" Jamie lives in the factory section of town, and as we walk towards his house the sky darkens a bit with the hazy textile fumes.

"You think you're so smart, kid? We'll teach you a lesson. Smarts won't come in handy unless you're important, and you're in the slums. Strength matters down here!" The sound of shattering glass and a whimper of pain echoes through the streets. Leo and I share a look and dash around the corner. Sure enough, it's scrawny Jamie- he's one of the smallest boys in our class- and he's being attacked by three fifteen-year-olds. They have him pushed up against a wall and one has a broken glass bottle. Leo jumps out before I can form a thought.

"What do you think you're doing to him?" She's taller than any of the boys, and she'll be furious. Leo is not fun to make angry. The boys gape for a second and run. Jamie slides to the ground and I scurry to his side. Leo follows. "Are you hurt?" He shakes his head.

"Just a little shocked. I was on my way to the Justice Building when those guys mobbed me." He stands up and grimaces. His white shirt is filthy. "Do we have time for me to change?" Leo shakes her head; Jamie lets out an exasperated sigh and falls in behind me as we walk back towards the square. He disappears when we reach the square- I guess he wants to get into his section without too many people noticing his grimy clothes. Leo hugs me before she rejoins her friends in the sixteen-year-old section. I retreat to my age group, watching for Sherry to show up in the front of the crowd.

She steps into place just as the escort steps up. He's a young man with purple hair, although I can't see any more odd things about his appearance. A few of the girls next to me start whispering about him. Apparently he's cute; thanks to their conversation I don't catch his name or the Treaty of Treason. Too bad for me. The girls do shut their mouths when the man reaches for the reaping bowl.

"You know I wanted District Four, but they wouldn't give it to me? Maybe these tributes will surprise me." He opens the slip of paper. "KARLIE MILLS!" Immediately tears burst from my eyes. Some victors say they didn't hear their names at first. I know exactly what's happening. The Games are cruel and I'm being forced to be a part of them. The Peacekeepers drag me forward and put me onstage. Out in the crowd I see Sherry and Leo, frozen in place with their mouths hanging open. They're so dumbstruck they don't have a chance to step forward when our escort asks for volunteers. Somebody in the boy's crowd wolf-whistles when the escort announces me again, and I'm able to glare in their general direction for a moment before the tears start leaking from my eyes again. How could they? Somebody- me- is getting sent to the arena and all they could do is wolf-whistle? Sherry has put her hand up to her mouth and I see two girls trying to support Leo. Why has this happened?

D8 MALE: TYMAN GRUITER

The purple-haired dude calls out some girl's name and I watch, smirking, as a fourteen-year-old is hauled onstage. Just in front of me, Jaden wolf-whistles and I can barely contain my snickers. Lillian will be glaring at us from the girls' section, but we'd never do it to her- she should just leave it alone. I adjust my blue shirt as the escort guy reads out the girl's name again and the Peacekeepers clap. Just get on with it already, you Capitol idiot. I don't care if you live in the flashiest city ever, just get _on _with it. Finally, the guy reaches into the other bowl and yanks out a piece of paper. He doesn't seem too happy with the girl, so hopefully the guy he calls out will be more 'victor' material.

"Tyman Gruiter!" Yeah, definitely victor material. I swagger out from my fellow seventeen-year-old males and stroll up to the stage confidently. His appraising stare seems much happier than it was with the girl. I'll win these stupid Games. I'll show everyone, and I don't have to be from One, Two, or Four. They're jacked up with their own pride.

I shake the younger girl's hand with a crushing grip and she grits her teeth to avoid showing pain. The little brat is stronger than I thought she was, although she's still no challenge- her eyes are red and watery. We glare at each other for a moment before she breaks it and faces the crowd once again.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your tributes for the Seventeenth Hunger Games- Karlie Mills and Tyman Gruiter!" I grin and nod a bit, but only the Peacekeepers cheer. The crowd is melancholy enough to just watch us go off, until a few Peacekeepers start shoving them around. Then they cheer. I turn around and stalk into the Justice Building. I deserve a better reception.

Inside the building I get something more along the lines of what I was thinking. Vaulting ceilings, ornate paintings and staircases- a guy could get used to this. I wasn't raised in the best part of town, but I can easily adjust to this. Very easily. I'm led into a rom just as fancy where my friends and family will come say goodbye. No need, they'll just wait a month and I'll be back home. My mom and dad walk in first. Dad kneels in front of my chair and grabs my shoulders. "Son, I know you'll come back. You're one of the most confident and strongest boys in the district- I know you'll came back. Just remember that I love you." I can't smell any alcohol on his breath, so I relax and nod. I'm glad he's sober- it's a much more fitting memory when I go into the arena. Mom ignores him and pushes him to the side.

"Oh, Ty! I can't believe this has happened! Please, please, promise me… promise me…" She sort of trails of and sniffs for a bit, starting to tear up.

"Promise you what, Mom?"

"Come home safely, dear!" I nod; that should be easy enough. They leave, barely acknowledging the other's existence. Why they haven't gotten a divorce, I have no idea. My older sister comes in next.

"Danique!" I haven't seen her in about a month- she's been so busy with wedding preparations and her new job as a factory manager that we haven't gotten to talk. She used to be my best friend.

"I'm sure you heard the whole 'come home' thing from Mom or Dad." I nod.

"Both." She wraps her delicate hand around my rough fingers.

"Well, then, let me just say I love you, little brother. Never forget that."

"I'm sorry I won't be here for your wedding, Danique. I'll probably get home a few days afterwards." She smiles sadly, kisses me on the top of my head, and leaves as gracefully as she came. My friends barge into the room next, tripping over their own feet in their hurry.

"Hey, man!" Jaden cries, making me grin, "Bring me back a souvenir from the Capitol, all right? And tell that girl I said hi, too, y'know?" We laugh, but Lillian isn't amused.

"Do you perverts realize that Karlie has a life she wants to get back to, also? One of my friends- the sixteen-year-old, Leo- is like, best friends with that girl." I pat her on the back.

"We'd never do anything to you, so why get riled up over some little kid? We're just joking."

"I don't even know why we're friends sometimes, Tyman. That goes for you, too, Jaden! But still, you ARE my friend. So please, just come back." I nod and Lillian leaves, apparently satisfied. Jaden and I joke around a bit more before he departs. I'm left alone for a bit, but the escort comes in.

"I figured you'd want a bit of company, since Karlie still has a few visitors left," he drones in his nasally Capitol accent.

"I don't care," I reply, turning away from him. He ignores this and keeps talking. Geez, Capitol people are dense.

"Well, several of the districts have no victors, which means they have to have people step in who have not experienced the Games. Eight is one of these, so we have a mentor from the Capitol who has agreed to take up mentoring this year!" He smiles and points towards the door, where a freakishly muscular man stands. "This is Peppy. He's one of the top Capitol bodybuilders, and District Eight's mentor for this year! But I'm going to be betting on you- you're much stronger than that little girl out there." He practically trips out of the room. Peppy blinks at me and lumbers away.

With chances already skewed like this, Peppy will be very, very interesting to have as my personal trainer. Forget that Karlie girl. These Hunger Games are mine for the winning.

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**Tell me what you think! :)**


	8. District Three Reapings

**Well, to let you all know, I will be leaving my home in a week for a vacation. I will be gone for two weeks and my destination has no way to let me upload chapters. My goal is to have all the reapings done my then, and be figuring out things like alliances and POVs for the Capitol pre-arena activities. Please don't think I've left the story, as my first promise (on the original first chapter) was to never cancel this story. Except if I die. :)**

**Our girl Neon is from d11-olive24 and our boy Newt is from DA Member Hogwarts. R&R! :)**

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D3 FEMALE: NEON WATTS

There it is- this wire will fit in perfectly with the capacitator and since it has a high rate of electric conductivity, soon the power will be able to flow relatively easily through the machinery! I use a pair of tweezers to lift the plastic-coated copper wire and place it into the tangle of cords and fans that I have been working with. My boss asked me to help with a new wiring system for the computers that will allow the power gird to withstand more flow of energy. I'm not the smartest worker in the department, but I'm the only one who will comply willingly. All the others would groan and whine, but I don't really care. I'd feel a bit bad about declining, actually. So I'm working on the wiring at eight in the morning on reaping day. At least it doesn't involve teamwork to finish the project. I'd have trouble with that.

"Neon!" I yelp and drop the tweezers, losing the wire in the mess of knots. I lift my safety goggles and turn around. My friend is standing there, grinning as I try and regain a quasi-normal heart rate.

"Geez, Mouse, you scared me!" Mouse, known to others as Callie, rolls her eyes.

"Aw, you startle at any sign of another human!" she says, brushing a piece of blond hair from her eyes and bending over my wiring system, "So whatcha doing? Still working on that new wiring system for Mr. Guthrie?" I nod emphatically. "Wouldn't it work better if you had a copper wire right there?" I almost laugh.

"That's what I was doing when you scared me!" Mouse goes to get a pair of glasses and I'm able to find the wire in her absence. Carefully fitting it into place, I barely breathe. After three weeks of work, I think this thing is finally finished! "Flip it on!" Mouse hits a switch and the new machinery starts to hum. The computer monitors flicker on and the hallway lights shine a little brighter. The lab's complex microscopes and fiber-optic cable machinery begin to power up. I squeal a little. "I did it! I finally finished it!" Mouse laughs and bends back over the machine.

"You may have finished this baby, but you've got to get over to the reapings soon! They start at nine and it's eight-fifteen already. Your house is twenty minutes away and you've got to change!" Well, that's nice. I walk calmly over to the switch and power down the machinery.

"Actually, I've been in my reaping outfit all along," I counter. The gray blouse and black trousers have been hidden under the lab coat, which I hang back up on the rack. Mouse rolls her eyes.

"Do you not want to deal with Sil and Ti again? Or your dad?" I hesitate for a moment. My sister, popular Silicon, and my brother, athletic Titanium, tend to get on my nerves.

"Yeah. Sil and Ti will just bug me about being shy and looking like I've got something to hide. And my dad… he'll just not notice me. It's like he only sees big, loud personalities." Mouse nods and we just stand there in the dim lab for a few seconds, the silence getting more and more awkward.

"Well, we'd better get down there anyway, or we'll have to fight through a huge crowd of people to find our seats! Well, our stands, since we don't exactly get to sit down." I shrug in agreement and we head out of the electronics factory.

"Are you here for the Reaping?" A Peacekeeper asks us as soon as we reach the outer edges of the city square. I nod. "This way, please." He leads Mouse and me to a boxy robotic machine.

"What is this for?" Mouse exclaims. The Peacekeeper says that it's a new way to check and make sure everyone is present for the reapings.

"Stick your hand inside, girl!" Mouse does so and the machine lights up for a moment. The little hole where Mouse put her fingers contracts and she tenses up for a second. Then a screen lights up and little words scroll across. _Calcium Watson. Age 14._

"Whoa, that's so cool! You've got to try it!" I oblige and put my hand inside. The hole shrinks and my fingertips are pressed to a slick, cool surface. _Neon Watts. Age 14. _She's right, that is cool!

"Move along, girls," the Peacekeepers gruffly says, shooing us out of the way. There is a growing queue where we once stood alone. Do they only have the one machine? Mouse and I proceed to our age group and stand in one corner as it quickly fills up around us. A few kids wave to Mouse, but I'm not acknowledged.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Seventeenth Annual Hunger Games reaping for the lovely tributes of District Three!" The escort pushes open the heavy Justice Building doors as the Treaty of Treason is read. It's the same one we've had for a while- I think her name is Talinda- and she's so over-the-top it makes my brain hurt. She totters over to the girls' reaping bowl on high heels with bows and ribbons dangling off the sides and spears a name on her manicured talons.

"And your lovely female tribute for this year is… Neon Watts!" Mouse cries out and everyone turns to look at me. The whole world spins before I can regain even a tiny bit of my bearings. She just called my name. My name, now everyone is looking at me, they're all watching, I'm going to the arena, the Capitol wants to watch me die! I gulp and try to control my shaking as I walk quickly to the front of the crowd… everyone is watching. I see some girls whispering. I hear a few conversations. Most of them don't recognize me, and most of them are just happy it's not them. But they still watch me.

D3 MALE: NEWTON 'NEWT' HILLEN

_The square root of the sums of the cubes of all the factors of forty-two_… Long, yes, but easy enough to do in my head until the last step. I work out a logarithm and soon enough, with a few more formulas thrown in for checking my answer, I've finished my advanced math summer homework. I was trying to finish it before the reapings- imagine if I went in the Games with unfinished business at home!- but the new attendance machines caught me off-guard and I spent probably half an hour watching them do their jobs. Those things are pretty neat, although with a simple reworking they could be half the bulk that they are now. They're still interesting. I pull out my pencil again and begin erasing stray marks as the escort calls up a girl. She's a year younger than I am, but I can't recall ever seeing her before. She's just one of those people who blend in. I keep erasing as the Capitol woman selects a name from the boys' bucket.

"Newton Hillen!" I keep erasing. "Newton Hillen?" The pink eraser tears a hole through my paper and I jerk my head up to face the escort. She called my name. A strange trembling overtakes my body as I walk up to the steps of the Justice Building. It's almost like I float through the crowd, serenely walking, footsteps echoing, through the people who are all watching me with wide-open eyes. It's surreal. I should be freaking out, but all I do it walk up to the girl and the escort.

"This is ruining my day," I say when Talinda holds out the microphone. I shake their hands and go to the visiting room inside the massive building.

"Newt!" Three voices call out unanimously. My family. My mom crushes me in a hug, while my dad puts his arms around both of us. My sister, Jaz, stands off a little bit, but her eyes are starting to turn red. "You have to do this," Mom says, still hugging me tightly, "You're smart, I know you are, and you can do this!" She starts sobbing and blows her nose on a tissue that Dad holds out to her. She rocks me back and forth, and I just let her. I love Mom, and this is one of those times where I'm not going to try and avoid a hug.

"Son, you're definitely the smartest kid out there in that arena, and you're going to make it. We've had a victor before, and this year another child from district Three is going to come home." He's talking about our only victor, a man named Alume who won the second Games. I at least have a mentor who can tell me something about the Games, not like some of the other districts who haven't yet had a victor- like Twelve or Eight. My parents remain for a few more minutes, telling me how much faith they have in me. It helps me, too. I can come home, this'll just be like a game of chess.

They leave, but Jaz stays behind. "Brother… I'm sorry. I haven't ever been a good big sister to you, and now you're going to… to those awful Games!" She's crying… for me?

"It doesn't matter, Jaz. You'll always be my sister, and it was never your job to be a controlling part of my life- that's a parent's job! I'll always love you."

"But I've always been mean to you about being nerdy, and let's face it you're not guaranteed to come back. What if you die and we never really got a chance to know each other?" She's really crying. I don't know what to do.

"Big sisters are always a bit mean to their siblings." I hug Jaz a little tentatively. "It hasn't gotten real, yet, anyways. I feel like I'm dreaming." She bursts out into huge tears and I start to panic. "Jaz, don't cry, please don't cry!" The Peacekeeper looks in the room and sees her bawling.

"Miss, you have to leave now." He drags my sister away unceremoniously, sending a duo of kids in. My friends.

"Where's Laya?" The quietest member of our group, Laya didn't come in with Adonia and Danny.

"She wanted to see you alone. Man, I tried to convince her, but she told us she wanted to come in alone!" Danny says, raising his hands in a gesture of defeat. I laugh.

"Danny wasn't able to argue his point well enough to change a mind? What is this world coming to? Maybe I will die in the Games?" Adonia gasps.

"Don't say that, Newt! You'll come out of that arena and back home, we're sure of it! And anyway, Danny hasn't always won his debates! He's lost a few of them to you!" I attempt to calm her down- futilely.

"I was joking! It doesn't even feel real yet. Just relax. I will be home." They leave so Laya has time to come in before the train leaves.

"Newt! Newt, I'm so afraid!"

"I'm not going to die- I've said it five million times!" her light brown hair swings in front of her eyes as she unpins her hair clip.

"Do you have a token?" I shake my head. Not yet I don't. She sticks the barrette in my hair and my hand goes up to it curiously. "It's to remember us by."

"Well, thanks, Laya!" It's a little… feminine, but I won't refuse a token. She leans forward.

"I can't believe you haven't noticed yet," she says sadly. Notice what? And then Laya kisses me. My mind explodes in stars and I'm so startled I don't even move until she pulls away. "That's to remember me." And with that she leaves the visiting room. As the stars fade, I realize something else.

I'm going to the Hunger Games with twenty-three other kids who will all want to kill me. And I don't know if the odds are in my favor.

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**I love District Three- in general as a district, since I'm not allowed to have favorite tributes here! :) Hope you enjoyed- tell me what you think! :D**


	9. District Twelve Reapings

**So after this, four reapings to go! Wow. Our girl Sara is from Thomas J. Flynn and our boy Luis is from istheplacewhereIloveyou! Hope you guys enjoy, R&R!**

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D12 FEMALE: SARA ROSS

"Father! Father!" I awake to my older sister's cries.

"Grace, shut up!" She's not even awake, though, and she continues to speak.

"No, Father, don't leave! He wasn't right, he didn't hurt you, Father- come back!" Her pitiful wail sounds like a two-year-old. That's how old she was when my father died, leaving my pregnant mother to take care of a toddler, Grace, and soon, me. I sit on the edge of my bed and listen to Grace whimper some more. She doesn't like being woken up rudely.

Our father was a recognized member of the Dark Days' rebellion. When a member of his squad was captured, he refused to leave his ally and after weeks of battle rescued him without further loss. However, the man had been hijacked and killed all but one member of the squad. My father did not survive. Grace may have been two at the time, but she remembers it all vividly. The man had attacked in front of the squad's families and several bystanders were injured as well. I've hated the Capitol ever since for what they did to my family, hated it so much that not even torture could drag out the fury. It's too deeply ingrained.

And what they did to Archer never helped. He was a nephew of one of the other squad member and he shared the same views as I did. We started dating two years ago and then, just eight months back, he disappeared. All the records say that he ran away to join the Peacekeepers, but nobody really believes that. In the Seam rumors spread about hijacking, mutating, and gruesome murder. I just know that, thanks to the Capitol, I've lost two of my loved ones. And I hate them.

I cannot stand Grace's unconscious cries now, so I duck out of the house without another word. My mother notices me leaving. "Sara? Sara, where are you going? Don't get into trouble, young lady!" Sometimes I think she's afraid that I'm going to incite a rebellion on the lowly, dusty streets of the Seam. I may act rebellious, but I just want to be with my friends.

"There she is!" Three kids wave frantically from another section of town. "Sara! Sara! Over here!" My closest friend, San, runs over and squeezes me in a hug, her boyfriend Micheal walking close behind. "Where were you?"

"I was waiting to see if Grace was going to stop talking in her sleep."

"Your dad?" Micheal says quietly. Even though he's the newest member of our group, Micheal knows our stories. I nod in reply.

"Well, as long as you're not gone, we'll be fine," Tara rolls her eyes and crosses her arms, "Just two more reapings, can you believe? We're almost free!"

"Not for you, silly!" San shrieks and we grin. Tara tends to forget she's a year younger than us. When we first met her, she had us all convinced she was our age! But the joke's on her now, I suppose.

"So are we ready to head out? My family won't be there until a few second before it starts, I'm guessing." Since Grace got out of the selection home free, she won't bother getting to the reapings on time, and Mom won't leave her home alone and asleep. We walk to the town square, a fair distance since we live in the middle of the Seam. I may not look the stereotypical part with my blond hair (although Tara is the epitome of 'Seam girl'), but this is all I've known. Except on reaping days, when all I know is scrubbed-down houses and sheer and utter terror. One day a year ever since I can remember.

We pass a few eighteen-year-olds, joking about how they are the last group to not be born into the Hunger Games. I don't see what the big deal is, since they can't remember that time anyway, so I just ignore them. They were born the year my father died. Tara pokes me in the side, jolting me from my reverie.

"Hey, careful! You know the Peacekeepers can tell a disloyal citizen from the look in their eyes!" she says.

"They can?" Uh-oh. How much do they know?

"I'm joking!" Tara laughs, "They can't tell. I was just trying to get your attention again. You were drifting into nowhere land. You'd believe every conspiracy theory there ever was!" San and Micheal laugh along with us.

Tara splits off to the other sixteen year olds, leaving San, Micheal and me to stand there looking at each other awkwardly. "Well, I guess I should find my spot, too," the boy says, disappearing silently into the pulsing crowd. San and I push through to find a place to stand, chatting animatedly about stuff before the escort steps forward. The Treaty of Treason is automated in Twelve this year, being read by a robotic voice over the speakers.

"Welcome everyone to the District Twelve reapings!" a lime-green woman with purple lips steps out into the sunlight. She brushes a speck of dust from her microphone and, bubbling with excitement, announces that she will draw the 'lucky girl' first. I clench my teeth. The Capitol is my enemy; it would be no treat to be drawn. However, my rebellious side falls to fear as she reaches for a name. Tara grabs my hand and the squeeze is reassuring for both of us.

"SARA ROSS!" My mother and sister realize before I do and scream from the crowd. Tara is shell-shocked and doesn't even try to hold me back. My legs move of their own accord. Could this be rigged in some way, to drive two members of my family to their doom? I swallow a cry as the Peacekeepers shove me the rest of the way to the front of the crowd.

I turn my head away when the escort holds out the microphone to me, refusing to speak a single word to this monster. Why me?

D12 MALE: LUIS THOMSEN

That poor girl up there- she seems strong enough, refusing to speak and refusing to cry, although she's sleek and slim, no muscle to be seen at all. But for me there is only one more name. One more name and I'll be free from the Games forever. I tense up as the shallow escort wobbles over to the crystalline orb and plunges her hand inside. One more name and I'll have lived. The slip of paper folds open and the woman's lips part to say the name. Am I selfish for wanting some other kid's name to be on that slip? No, it's just a human desire to live. One more name and I'll be free from the reapings and the Games.

"LUIS THOMSEN!" I swear under my breath, causing the boys around me to look back at me. They have never known me, never bothered to know me. I force down any emotion and walk steadily to the stares. My mask is up; they'll never see I'm working to hold it together. The escort smiles as I don't show hostility, and the girl-Sara- turns around to shake my hand before glaring at the escort and facing the crowd once more. The Peacekeepers take us into the fancy Justice Building, and I plunk down in a room without giving a second glance to the district I'm leaving. After a few moments of waiting, the Peacekeepers admit my first visitor.

"Mom!"

"Luis!" She strides over to me, sitting on the couch cushion beside me. Our family isn't very big on contact. "Son, you know what you have to do, correct?"

"Yeah. Come home."

"And?" The crease between her eyes deepens.

"Oh yeah. Alive." She nods, satisfied, and brushes her lips against my forehead. The Thomsens are not an overly emotional clan, nor a particularly friendly one.

"Are Damian and Calvin coming?" I may call Rose 'Mom', but my father and I don't exactly get along, and he favors my brother anyways. So I call him by his name, Damian. She nods.

"They are authorized to be in here with me, so any second…" They walk through the double doors, both scowling.

"Come home, kid," growls Damian, "Or else I'll be wiping the records."

"What? You'd disown me if I died in the Hunger Games?" I spill a few, more colorful, words before he speaks again, mimicking my words using a little girl's tone.

"You would have failed, right? What's the point of keeping you with us?" He and my arrogant brother- who didn't even say anything- march back out.

"I love you, Mom," I say as she follows them in fury.

"I love you, too, son." The door is flung open barely a second later by my one and only friend, Iona Prescott.

"By the force of the opening of the door, I would have expected someone larger!" I say gruffly. Iona rolls her eyes. We're eighteen, and she's five feet tall. Normally she gets upset when I make jokes about her stature- she's the only person I joke around with at all- but she's much too freaked out to respond normally.

"Luis! Oh, you better come back, Luis! Or I will personally dig up your grave and murder your corpse!" She tends to get really emotional when she's riled up, not just angry or sad- it's like a whirlwind. Or a mine collapse.

"I'll come back. You know me- better wits than half the idiots out there and stronger than the smarter kids! I'll come back- alive."

"What was it you called those kids from One, Two, and Four again? Do you want to ally with them at all? They might want you- you're probably better than a few of them!" I throw back my head and laugh. It may be true that I've got a better shot than some of them, but ally with them?

"The Careers? No way- if I ally with anyone, it'll be with someone honest. I don't trust the Career pack with my life!" I made up the name a few years ago, when some of the kids had announced that they had been training for the Games in their districts. "It's like the Games are their career choice," I had said, "They are the careers!" Iona nods, appeased.

"Will you take this as a token?" She takes off a simple leather necklace she is wearing and hands it to me. I nod. My family didn't give me anything- if Mom meant to she lost her opportunity when Damian and Calvin came in. Putting the length of cord around my neck, I consider my chances some more. My mind accustoms itself to the thought of going to the Capitol and the arena. I'm slightly stronger than most normal tributes and I've got my fair share of mind power. The geniuses usually end up defeating themselves, and the muscle-bound tributes usually are dumb as rocks.

"Don't worry, Iona. I'll come through this, and then I'll be home." I refuse to consider the possibility of dying, even when my friend tells me to not get overconfident. "The odds are as much in my favor as they can," I say, "I'll come back, I'm sure of it!"

"Just make sure you come back whole," Iona jokes, tapping her head with her finger. We laugh at the dry humor. I've distanced myself from everyone except Iona without even trying, so it should be easy to retreat from the deaths of twenty-three kids I barely know. People die pretty often down here in coal-dusted, lonely Twelve, anyways. If I keep my distance I'll come out of the Hunger Games whole and safe.

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**And there you have it, folks: the fifth-to-last reaping chapter! When the reapings are finished I'll put a poll up on my profile for you guys to vote on your favorites, so be thinking about that, too. :) And while we're on the subject of thinking, tell me what you thought of Sara and Luis!**


	10. District One Reapings

**So I've been reading 1984 by George Orwell for my summer reading, and I was thinking how much the Hunger Games is reminiscent of it. If anyone wants some good dystopian fiction, go read 1984. Total classic. :)**

**Our boy Adrian is fom MyrtleFalls and our girl Athena is from Call me cat333. :) R&R!**

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D1 MALE: ADRIAN RAIN

"Hey! You!" An older student at the training center calls me over from the swords. Does this older girl want to spar? I'm fine with it, but usually the seventeen and eighteen year olds keep pretty much to themselves. If they have a younger sibling that trains, then they will sometimes interact with the rest of us, but even then it's rare. That's actually how I started training- my older brother Shade trained and I was fascinated with all of it. I smirk. If I'm being called over, they must have finally realized that I'm just as good- better, even- than them.

"What do you want?" I reply.

"I heard you were planning to volunteer today, is that true?" A boy stands slightly behind her with his arms crossed and nostrils flaring- are they afraid I'm going to take this monster's spot in the Games? Idiots. At least I'm a threat. They finally acknowledged the fact that they're not as good as a sixteen-year-old boy! And a small one at that- I'm five feet, five inches tall and scrawny. But my eyes, hidden under my shaggy blond hair, would totally give me away. I'm too fierce to not make up for my size.

"No, I was planning on waiting till I was eighteen- in two years," I reply smoothly. No need to get in a fight today. They can go do their training, and I can do mine. If they're not attacking me in any way, I don't need to start a fight with the truth- I know they think I'm good!

The boy grunts and turns back to his double-bladed battleax, but the girl isn't through with me yet. "Well, looky here!" Some of the other eighteen-year-olds turn and look at me. "We have a boy who thinks he's gonna volunteer in two years! Ha! You're too scrawny, too weak, to survive five seconds in the Games! I bet you're too much of a coward to volunteer at all!" And that's when I snap. I'm not going to let any of them treat me like that. They're gonna pay!

I fly at the girl; lucky for her I left my swords at my training station. I punch her and she scrapes her nails down the side of my face- the sting is immediate.

"No!" I'm yanked back by another girl, but this time I relax. It's my friend Micah. She pulls me away from the older girl, who sneers and stalks back to her friends. "Are you all right, Adrian?" I nod. "Let it go. She's just trying to make you mad- you do have a reputation for being a hothead!"

"Just… let me at her- nobody tells me I'm weak!" Micah's losing her grip on me and she calls over her shoulder.

"June! A little help here?" Another pair of hands drags me away. June, while Micah just wants to volunteer to get her family some wealth and one of the new houses in the Victor's Village, trains to fight and wants to go into the Games for the glory. I can't break free from her iron grip and my two friends manage to pull me all the way to the other side of the training arena. The girl who provoked me is already laughing with her friends.

"C'mon guys. Let's go. I can't stand to look at her ugly face anymore." I storm from the center and onto the street. The words echo in my ears. _You're too much of a coward to volunteer at all!_ That girl will tease me even more now, for being restrained by two girls. I won't ever get a break, since that girl has boasted to everyone that she's gotten a job at the training center for after this reaping.

"Adrian! Adrian, wait up!" I stop walking for a moment and allow June and Micah to catch up with me. June almost overtakes me as I slow my pace, while Micah comes up behind, panting.

"You guys go on ahead. I need to drop by my house for a second." June shrugs and walks past me; Micah hesitates for a moment before following June. I walk the block to my house, change into a pale blue shirt and clean jeans, and jog back out the door.

"Hey, bro- where are you headed?" Shade is walking sleepily down the stairs when I dash out the door. Mom and Dad aren't up yet, which means I almost got back out of the house without any conversation.

"Where do you think? It's reaping day!" He grins and I keep going. The small exchange slowed me down enough so that I don't have any time to find June and Micah before I'm directed to my place. I roll my eyes and join the other sixteen-year-old boys. Thanks to my height- or lack thereof- I can't see into the girls' section to find my friends.

"Seventeen years ago, the districts decided to rebel and their evil attempts were quenched…" the Treaty of Treason begins. I ignore it in my horror. The escort has arrived and they are hideous. The grotesque fashions of the Capitol are too much for me. A girl volunteers- I'm glad to see it's not one of the jerks from the training hall- and then the words hit me again.

_You're too much of a coward to volunteer at all_! Soli, the escort, reaches for a boy's name in the decorated bucket and before she even finishes unfolding the slip of paper I'm running up to the stage.

"I VOLUNTEER! I VOLUNTEER!" Groans from the eighteen-year-old boys erupt as I climb onstage. Soli is surprised, but she holds out her microphone.

"I'm Adrian Rain, and this goes to show all you morons from training that I can win these Games!" The girl who teased me is glaring at me, but I can tell she's smiling when she sees the fingernail marks on my face. Her boyfriend is extremely angry and I smirk down on him as I am proclaimed tribute.

D1 FEMALE: ATHENA MONROE

These Games will make me or kill me. My mother always likes to say that, but I'm not quite sure what she means. She's never encouraged me to volunteer, either. I mean, duh, twenty-three people die each year, but I'm powerful and clever- why shouldn't I win? Mom trained me herself and she knows how skilled I am. I'll just kill a few people and then come back, no big deal. They're not that important, are they? It's not possible for a few battles to change a person that much, is it? They show pictures from the Dark Days of soldiers with post-traumatic stress disorder, but that was in the Dark Days.

I poise my feet to run as the escort, a woman with golden tattoos around her eyes, plucks a name from the reaping ball. I can win this and Mom will be proud when I come out on top. The name isn't even finished when a girl starts to run forward. No! I won't let her steal my place up there on the stage! A crowd of other girls must feel the same way- dashing for the steps on the side of the platform with abandon. Must they be so much like lemmings, all following the one? Volunteering is the biggest thing ever, yes, but can't they see the easy way to do this? I run straight for the stage, vaulting up and over the edge. No! Two other girls had the same idea, and they've scrambled onstage as well. I slug one right in the eye, and she howls in pain. I refuse to wince as she digs her fist into my side and kick the other girl in the belly. She doubles over and receives a broken nose, courtesy of my elbow. She's not used to pain, by her cries, and I shove her off the stage. The other girl, though, keeps fighting. She doesn't grimace when I pull her away from me by her long red ponytail; she digs her teeth into my shoulder and they break my dark skin.

"Get off of my stage, girl!" I grab her by the throat and literally throw her into the crowd. As she struggles to her feet, I give my name. "I'm Athena Monroe." These Games will make you or break you. Well, if this is basically what they offer, I should be pretty well off, shouldn't I? I roll my shoulders as Soli prepares to select a boy. The only kid who'll be out of the Games- unless he gets up here freaking fast- will be the boy whose name is drawn.

"I VOLUNTEER! I VOLUNTEER!" A sixteen-year-old bursts forward and reaches the stage almost before anyone else has time to react. I examine him as he tells everyone his name is Adrian and this is to show all those morons in the training center he's not a coward. He's definitely one of those overly proud, picked-on, stubborn kids. If the past Games are anything to go by, he'll be killed by his own pride. I, on the demand of my mother, keep a realistic assessment of my own weaknesses. And there she is in the crowd, beaming as I walk into the Justice Building.

"You volunteered? I trained you to protect you if you were selected!" she says as she strides into the room for visitors. I grin and hug her. She's the one who trained me, so she deserves a chunk of the credit! It's not like I'm gonna die. Sure, people do, but I won't!

"Sorry, Mom, but at least we both know I'll come home! Well, you trained me, so you deserve some of that happiness for yourself!" We laugh, but then her face grows serious.

"Just remember… these Games will-"

"Make me or break me, yeah, I know! Don't worry, I'll be home before you miss me!" She smiles, but the grin is a little weaker. She steps back and my father Jett hands me a small heart charm.

"I love you, daughter. Don't ever forget who you are." I accept the token and my parents leave after my mom hugs and kisses me a few more times. Then Agatha and Harry come in, both teary-eyed.

"You never told us you were going to volunteer!" Agatha says, almost flying across the room in her hurry to reach me. Harry nods and takes my hand in his. I shrug.

"Well, there's nothing to be lost- for me, since we know I'll be coming back, and there's glory for the district and wealth to gain, so I decided to go for it." Agatha knows it's not worth it to try and convince me that I might die, since I only believe that I can win. I know my weaknesses, so it's a realistic bet. Unlike some of the kids I've met before, who thought they were invincible. Most of them have died in the Games by now. I'm not like them.

"I can't quite believe this is happening," she cries. I consider it for a moment.

"You'll know. As soon as the Games begin, you'll know. And as soon as they've started, they will have ended and I'll be back home, deal?"

"Well, then, just come back quickly. All right, Athena?" I nod and Agatha, truly crying now, hugs me. We're like siblings. Harry stays a few minutes after his twin sister leaves, holding my hand. Finally he stands, and I stand alongside him.

"Promise me you'll come back, okay?" he says, but kisses me before I have a chance to assure him once more that I'll come home. I love him; he's so sweet. I smile as I'm left alone with my thoughts. I'll be fine in the Games. The odds are in my favor, after all. And I've got motivation at home to push me through. I'll win the Hunger Games, won't I?

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**Three more reapings! I should be finished just before I leave, so :). **


	11. District Ten Reapings

**District Ten, everybody! Our girl Ruby is from t00 lazy to log in; our boy Blue is from Mari Tate! :) R&R!**

**Any ideas for story covers?**

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D10 MALE: BLUE ANSTON

_ "Why are you trying to kill me?" Cordovan says._

_ "I'm not," hisses the boy from Nine, "You're out to get me!" He raises his double-bladed staff and jabs at Cordovan with it. My brother sidesteps and uses his spear to slice open a gash on the boy's arm._

_ "We don't have to kill each other!" Cordovan pleads, gasping for breath. The wild-eyed boy from Nine leers at him._

_ "Then why are you attacking me?" My brother protests and tries to turn and run, but it's far too late. At age fourteen, he is one of the youngest competitors. The other boy is a year older, and burly from working in the fields. He shoves Cordovan to the ground and impales him on the end of his staff. But the cannon does not sound yet. The blade is buried in his stomach, not hitting any instant killing points. Cordovan gasps in agony and doubles over around the staff. The boy from Nine goes to slit his throat with a small knife, but an arrow suddenly is embedded in his right eye. Then his cannon sounds. The tributes from One, Two, and Four watch curiously as my brother dies_. BOOM.

I jerk awake, trembling and sweating. My brother died six years ago, when I was ten. And today, Reaping Day, I am sixteen and I still dream about it. I rub my arms to stop the shaking and climb out of bed. It's about time to get up, anyways, and there's no way I would be able to fall back asleep. The sun shines through my window cheerily, but the dream won't fade and I sigh. I hate it when that happens.

I grab a piece of wood from near the hearth as I walk out the door.

"Where are you going, son?" my dad calls from the kitchen.

"Out to the street, Dad!" He takes a sip of his coffee.

"Meet us at the reapings if you don't have time to come home, all right? Love you, Blue!"

"Love you, too, Dad!"

The morning is already promising to be a warm one and the heat relaxes me a little bit. My knife is in the shed; I retrieve it and begin to whittle. The monotony of the exercise soothes my mind, and through the wood shavings a sleeping fawn emerges from the wood. It's one of my better carvings, so I put away the whittling knife, slip the finished piece into my pocket and jog down the street. The dream hasn't quite shaken away.

"Hey! Blue!" A loud voice chases me down the street and I turn around. It's my friend Benton, scrambling to catch up with me with a grin on his face. Finally he reaches me. "How are you doing?" I shrug.

"I mean, it is reaping day." He makes a small sound of realization. He knows I'm thinking about Cordovan again.

"So I guess you won't be smiling today. It took me years to get you to smile after your brother, and even now I have a hard time cracking that shell you always hide in! C'mon, man, I'm older than you- listen to your elders, all right?"

"Aw, really? Because you could be my little brother, shorty!" We go in circles- he teases me because I'm a few months younger than he is, I tease him because he's shorter than me. Suddenly another voice breaks into our conversation.

"Are you messing with Blue again, Benton? Can't you leave the guy alone on Reaping Day?" We look around wildly for a moment, and then I catch sight of Kindra hanging from her window. Benton follows my gaze and waves frantically to her.

"That's why I'm messing with him! He needs to smile!" She grins and disappears from view for a moment before running out her door and joining us.

"And that's why you need to leave him alone- can't you tell he's serious today?" Her smile seems a little forced and she hugs me almost protectively.

"Um, sorry, man," Benton says abashedly. I wave it off.

"Should we head to the square? You know they made the reapings earlier so the wind won't have time to change and bring in the scent of cows from the ranches right outside the city," Kindra worries, "and we shouldn't be late." I don't want to go, but I don't want to get in trouble or come in late- like Cordovan did the year it was his turn.

"Sure, let's go," I hesitate to reply, but we start off to the square all the same. I see my family arrive just as we do and I break away from Kindra and Benton to see them. My father has an arm around my mother, the lines in his face more pronounced than ever on Reaping Day. Mother holds his hand, but drops it when she sees me. My sister almost jumps up and down when I reach her and hug her. We could be twins- fraternal, but we're close enough in age that we have an inseparable bond. Even though Violet couldn't bring me out of my depression when Cordovan died. I hug my parents too and none of us really want to let go, but Violet and I eventually go to our spots.

"Hello, District Ten! Today two of your children will be selected to participate in something that will bring them ever-closer to finding out who they really are! Do you know what that is? I groan. Sometimes Janus, our escort, has really good riddles, but that was just cheesy. He waits until a few kids shout out the answer until he continues. "First, our lady tribute!" He picks out a girl and reads the name; it's not Violet or Kindra, which is all I really care about. The girl is really dressed up and she seems extremely upset, but someone has to go. "And now for the boy- BLUE ANSTON!"

What? How can they do this to my family? Two of their children sent to the Games? No! I haven't lived my life yet! And… it's my fault. I've been wallowing in grief for much too long, and now I'm determined to live. I just need to come home. I must live. I have to live!

D10 FEMALE: RUBY ELIS

My mother and I saunter down the street, going to the town square in order to attend the reaping. The Hunger Games are of no consequence to my rich family, but it's a treat to watch the reactions of some of the kids who get chosen. Except when that little twelve-year-old boy was selected a few years ago, that was sad. The Games are much too harsh, but the Capitol is just amazing. Being chosen for the Games would be very nice for a week, until all the blood begins to spill. Ugh. Blood makes me dizzy! I realize I've fallen a few steps behind Mother and I run to catch up with her in my red satin dress and high heels. It's important to show the lower classes real fashion.

"Dearest, there are some of your best companions- shall we invite them to walk with us?" I nod and call over to my friends and their parents. Clarisse, my favorite young person, is thirteen and her parents are part of the elite class- not that I would hang out with anyone else. Chandler is my boyfriend, and he's really handsome, although he can get a little arrogant about his looks. I'll probably end up marrying him. Then there's Adeline. Ugh. Can't she go talk to someone else? Well, no. Our parents would be shocked. She's the same age I am- sixteen- and she used to be my best friend. Not after she started trying to be more popular than I was! She should know that I'm the best and she should have accepted that. I chat with Clarisse as we walk to the square. Her parents make small talk with my mom, while Adeline's dad explains to them that my ex-best friend's mom wasn't feeling well that morning. Chandler's parents think that at age seventeen he's definitely old enough to travel alone.

I wish I had both parents. My chocolate-colored curls and amber eyes are just like my father's, although the last time I saw him was eight years ago. He's not dead. We still get money- and a lot of it- but I've only ever seen him twice. He used to send me birthday presents, but he stopped when I was ten. About then I started questioning why he wasn't there. It was simple- he had stopped coming home the time I was born, so it must have been my fault somehow. My fault! Shouldn't he come home and see that I'm just fine? I push the questions out of my mind and step into the square.

On my left side, Chandler takes my arm. On my right… I screech as a beggar holds out his grubby hands, pleading for money. Clarisse drops a few coins in his palm, but I pull away like poverty is contagious. Ugh, he's so nasty! Our entire party moves a bit faster into the square and Clarisse goes to her section. I don't want to stand with all those poor people! Mother doesn't want to either, but she pushes me and Adeline towards our places. Chandler kisses me and strides to his group and Adeline and I share a look. I lift my nose in the air and take a spot on the very edge of the crowd, leaving Adeline to push through the mobs to find another spot. I smirk.

The escort asks a few riddles, then really sets the reapings' initiation with a 'riddle' about the Hunger Games. I want Adeline to be chosen. Then I won't have to deal with her anymore. But that won't happen. Adeline and Chandler and Clarisse and I are safe, since none of us have ever taken tesserae. Deep down inside, it's not true anyway; I'd feel terrible if she died. We were best friends once upon a time.

"RUBY ELIS!" My mother gapes from the crowd, but regains her composure just as I lose mine. What? I can't have been reaped. Some poor kid from the factories always gets chosen, not me! Pick someone else, some dirty expendable- not me! Clarisse is tearing up. I wobble up to the stage on my high heels and I see a bunch of the boys whispering to each other. I know they're talking about me- how good I look. I lift my nose a little higher. There's no reason I should break down and blubber right here in front of everyone!

The escort chooses a boy- a cute guy my age comes up to the stage. He's not part of my class, though. I cringe a bit inside as we shake hands and the Peacekeepers nudge and prod us into the Justice Building. I don't have to wait long in the- very nice- room before Clarisse comes in. She's so sweet. She hugs me, but she doesn't say anything. I pet her hair while she squeezes me, and right before her time is up she whispers "Good-bye." There are teardrops on my dress. Adeline comes in next, with red eyes. Was she really sad? No. Just by the look on her face, I can tell. We sit there glaring at each other until the Peacekeeper comes and tells her to go.

"I just came in because I was told to," she hisses, "Good luck in the Hunger Games, Ruby." Chandler comes next.

"I can't believe this happened! It totally ruined my future! How could they do this to me?" I wrap my arms around his neck and he kisses me. Then he leaves and a Peacekeeper takes his spot.

"Your mother is on her way." I sit in silence for a moment, Chandler's words echoing in my ears. They were all about him- nothing about me. He's not the most genuine person out there, and he's arrogant, but I'll still probably marry him. _If I come home_, a little voice in my head says. Finally, my mother enters, regal as always.

"My dearest! How could this happen? You must come home!"

"Yes, mother. I'll come home. I'll try my hardest!"

"I love you."

"I love you too- just remember, you're the best one and they have to know that!" I nod as she strides away. I poke my head out of the door.

"Is anyone else here, sir?" I ask a Peacekeeper. He shakes his head and I disappear into my room before the tears leak out. My father didn't even bother to come say goodbye.

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**I just realized this: I have three color names- Gray (Tanner), Blue (Anston), and Ruby (Elis). Four if you count Neon (Watts), but neon's more like a type of color than a color itself. And Bay (Farris) is sometimes used to describe horses' pelts, but here it's referring to the leaf. It's like the Capitol spilled a box of crayons into the reaping bowl! :) I think it's pretty neat.**

**Hope you enjoyed- two more reapings left (Districts 4 and 7)! Tell me what you thought of this one! :)**


	12. District Seven Reapings

**Hello from District Seven! Our girl Laken is from The Yellow Duckling and our boy Rowne is from Tayjay101. :) R&R!**

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D7 FEMALE: LAKEN MARX

"You know that some trees can live for over a millennium if not chopped down?" my friend Luna says. I grin.

"That's neat. Too bad these trees won't ever get that far!" I scramble up a young pine tree and saw off one of the high branches. "Heads up down there!" Below me, I see Luna and Tennan step back from the tree as the limb crashes down. I swing to the ground after it. "That's the only dangerous branch on this one, guys! Time to take it down!" Tennan gives me a thumbs up and begins to hack at the trunk with his huge axe.

"Hey, Laken, is your mom doing all right?"

"Same." My mom is in a coma, courtesy of my dad. He went into one of his rages a few months back and sent her careening into a wall hard enough to knock her out. He was always a quiet guy, but even when he's not angry now, he's moody and sullen. He feels terrible for what he did- and thanks to the court he's under house arrest. When I was really young, only three, he had a bad one and killed my brother Logan in front of me. Ever since I just have these times where I sort of drop out of reality- I can't ever remember what happened. It's weird, true, but I've pretty much gotten used to it. I just block my emotions.

"Tennan? How's it coming?" Luna says, using a hatchet to notch the tree; we don't want it falling on any of us!" The boy grunts and nods. When I first met Tennan I thought he was just shy, but a few hours later I found out he was actually mute. It doesn't matter, he's my friend. Luna, too. I get along with everyone, but my best friends are outcasts. We make a good team, the fou- three of us. Where did that come from?

The creaking trunk gives away the fall and a few seconds later the pine falls, shaking the ground with its crash. "Is that our quota, guys?" I ask. Tennan nods and Luna cheers.

"Yes! This is most certainly the best part of reaping day- only two trees to fell and we're off work!" We all high five and load the tree onto the sledge-thingy we drag around. It's a fair-sized tree and it takes a while to haul it back to the lumber yards. The other workers will clean the trunk and split it after the reapings. For now it's left alone and Luna, Tennan, and I will return to the town to change and get to the Justice Building. My house is the closest and I slip through the front door, praying that my dad is normal.

"Morning, Laken," he mumbles from the couch; I breathe a sigh of relief. If Mom were here I wouldn't have to worry, Dad wouldn't ever hurt me. But she's not here. I miss her so much that I feel like I'm sick when I think about her. I plod to my room and wriggle into a deep purple dress, slightly faded, freeing my long dark hair from the collar. Then I tiptoe back over the creaking floorboards to the back door- my father's moods change quickly- and I'm back outside. I'll meet back up with Luna at the square, but Tennan will have already gone to his section.

The trees sway gently under the overcast sky, relaxing me. They're so calm, and that makes me calm. The square is tense, though, and I see Luna in the twel- no, fourteen-year-old section. Does everyone forget stuff about themselves? When I'm in school I have moments where I forget my name sometimes.

The escort steps forward. "Welcome to the reapings, District Seven!" he booms. It's Thunder, the same guy we've had for the past however many years. He is dyed gray with raindrop-patterned clothing. Luna fidgets beside me and I squeeze her hand. "Let's not bother with formalities and select a name, shall we?" roars Thunder. He shoves his hand into the clear bowl marked 'GIRLS'. I hold my breath.

"LAKEN MARX!" My head spins and Luna's screams pierce my ears.

I skip forward to the stage, looking at all of the people around me. I wonder if any of them ever understand the magic of the clouds. They're like giant cotton balls for the fairies to play with! The girl crouching in the back of my mind doesn't. I'm here to protect her; whenever she gets too afraid I step forward. She's a very nice girl, but she's been through too much. She's lucky, though. There aren't any more of us. Only two. Everyone is staring as I twirl up to the stage. "Do you know there's a sprite on your head?" I say to the escort. He gapes at me.

"Please welcome Laken Marx!" he says. Nope, that's not who I am.

"I'm not Laken," I say, "I hope you have a high pain tolerance, because the sprite is biting your ear."

"Well, who are you? Are you volunteering?"

"No, I'm protecting Laken. My name is Merry and I'm sixteen. Laken's fourteen. She's here," I say, pointing to my head. The escort nods a bit and steps away from me. His mouth is still open. The sprite climbs inside. He's not very nice. I hope he chokes. A boy, young and obviously very afraid, is brought up to the stage. I smile widely and hug him. He stiffens in my arms, freaked out by my embrace, but he's definitely interesting. A troll follows him everywhere he goes. I turn to the crowd like Laken is trying to do inside.

"Your tributes for the Seventeenth Hunger Games, Laken Marx and Rowne Mercer!" Thunder announces. I tap my temple again. Once we leave the stage, it'll be safe for the switch again. Laken can come back when it's safe again. She shut her emotions away for so long it makes me sad. I protect her.

D7 MALE: ROWNE MERCER

"You ready to do this again, bro?" Garnet says, fidgeting a bit in his place. The escort reads out the girl's name and a girl from the fourteens' section screams. It's not her who steps forward, though; it's the girl next to her. Best friend screaming? Probably. The girl twitches a bit as she walks from the mass of other kids, grins suddenly, and skips to the stage. What is going on? Everyone in the district watches as the escort introduces this Laken girl.

"I'm not Laken," she says and says something about a fairy on the escort's ear. He asks if she is a volunteer- imagine that, a volunteer in Seven! Ha! And she says no, that her name is Merry, and that Laken's inside of her and it's her job to protect the girl. What? What is going on? I'm so confused, and I usually keep my thoughts so organized!

Thunder reaches towards the boys' bowl as the girl watches him curiously.

"ROWNE MERCER!" The girl looks expectantly towards the boys- it's like she wants to eat Rowne. Where is he? Shouldn't he be going up? I look around and see the boys have stepped back from me. Wait. That is me! No! No! I'm only thirteen! Hesitantly I step forward. If there's ever going to be a volunteer for District Seven, please let it be today. I'm small and wispy and I'm only thirteen- please, this can't be happening! I can feel the tears sting in my eyes and the first drop rolls down my cheek. The cameramen all focus their cameras and machines and gears towards me and I look down. I don't want them to see. My knees shake as I take small steps forward and I try to turn my head away from all the cameras.

I clamber up the steps of the Justice Building to the makeshift stage and the girl- I'm still not sure if she's Laken or Merry- swoops towards me. I'm so surprised I don't move in time and she hugs me. I freeze up until she lets go. Looking down in a pitiful attempt to hide my face, I stand silently until the Peacekeepers take us into the Justice Building.

First to burst into the room is Garnet. His little sister Anice clings to his pant legs and looks at me curiously. Following them in are Sarie and Leone, my friends from school.

"What just happened here? That's sick! They can't do this to you!" Garnet says angrily. His face is red. I sit on the chair and wait until he's done raging.

"Garnet, Garnet, it'll be okay, all right? Don't say stuff like that in front of Anice!"

"Okay, okay, you'll come back, right?" I nod.

"Want to see my token?"

"Sure," he says sullenly. I pull up my trouser leg a few inches, revealing a chain loop on my ankle. "Is that the one…" I grin. Garnet, when we were both really little, carved 'G was here' into one of the links. I let the cloth fall and Anice climbs into my lap. Sometimes people think she's my sister instead of Garnet's, which makes her giggle.

"I'm gonna miss you when you're away, Rowne," she whispers into my ear, her seven-year-old speech marred with a slight lisp. I tear up a bit and Garnet does the same- Garnet, crying? He really is as messed up as I am over this. I guess it's what comes from being best friends since we were babies. Sarie bites her lip from the back of the room and Leone adjusts his glasses as an excuse to hide his expression. Anice slips from my lap, takes Garnet's hand, and everyone follows them out of the room. I sit alone, dangling my legs off the edge off the chair, for a moment before a Peacekeeper walks in the room. He holds a crumpled note in his hands; when he hands it to me I can see tearstains on the paper.

"This is from your mother," the burly man says gruffly. I unfold the sheet and read the note.

_My dearest son,_

_ I wrote you this letter to tell you that I love you and your father would, too, if he weren't always in the Capitol and never home. Please, come home, and just remember your loving mother._

_ Love,_

_ Nuria_

I scowl as I toss the paper away. I love my mom, but couldn't she bear to say this in person? Couldn't she stand to see me for what may be the last time? Didn't she love me? Judging by the tearstains she was upset, but she couldn't bother to step into this room. This makes me very upset. I sit cross-legged for a while longer and then I can't stand it anymore. Neither of my parents came to see me, and my friends have already left. My token weighs heavier by the second on my ankle, and I feel like banging on the door to let my anger out.

Doesn't anyone care about Rowne Mercer anymore? I see a small camera in the corner of the room and duck my head again. No Capitol machine will be privy to my tears again.

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**A little explanantion for anyone who is confused: Laken has multiple personality disorder, AKA dissociative identity disorder. Her 'normal' personality is the kind, happy Laken, and her main 'alter' is insane Merry. Merry is sixteen, while Laken is fourteen. Don't ask me how that works, because I don't know. :)**

**Tell me what you thought! **

**District Four is next- last, but certainly not least! :)**


	13. District Four Reapings

**THE LAST REAPING! AHH! Our girl Camilla is from Funny Bunny-lover and our boy Alex is from PenMagic! :D R&R!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of Shakespeare's works. :) Or the Hunger Games.**

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D4 MALE: ALEXANDER 'ALEX' ISIS

"Well, what was yours?" Archie says, circling me. He's so in character I almost burst out laughing. But I don't, because I'm acting too.

"That dreamers often lie!" I say, laughing- I can laugh now- and pushing Archie away from me playfully. He looks back at me disdainfully.

"In bed asleep, while they do dream things true," he sniffs. Man, he's too good at playing Romeo. We both hate the guy as a character, but Archie ended up with the part.

"O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with thee!" I shout, extending my arms.

"Cut! Cut!" Bethany shouts from the side of the stage. All the actors groan; my girlfriend is one of the pickiest directors in District Four.

"C'mon, babe, I was just getting into the fairy rant!" I complain. I'm just messing with her, though. I'm not mad.

"Your right arm is extended all wonky."

"It's always like that! It was that accident when I was six!"

"But the scar on your face is where you got into the accident, right?"

"Naw, that was the one where the guys who were messing with Archie gashed me with the fishing knife. The hook accident that messed up my arm happened before I even met you guys!" Bethany shrugs and tosses her light hair over her shoulder.

"Continue, Mercutio!" she laughs at me. We finish the scene without any further interruptions, clean up the stage, and head outside.

"So, today's the day?" Archie says, a bit nervously. I nod once. "Why'd you bother trying out for Romeo and Juliet if you planned to volunteer?"

"I may not have officially trained, but we all know acting keeps a person in even better shape than sparring! I'm still pretty good with weapons- I do stage combat and read, too, you know. I'll be back and I've played the part before- it's not like I need extra rehearsals. Geez, I've played Mercutio under Bethany's direction before! They need to see I'm not as weak as they think I am. But I'm not going to pretend it's just a game." We laugh, but the mood grows somber quickly. "I won't pretend that I'm invincible or that I won't change. I will. But I know the part. There's a chance I won't come back, but all the world's a stage- I don't need to stay on just one."

"Well, our Tybalt will have some fun pretending to fight with you for the next few weeks!" Bethany says, adjusting her lilac dress. I've sort of freaked them all out now. I smile; I still sort of feel in character. All the teenage actors came to practice already dressed in their reaping outfits. I'm wearing a white collared shirt, nicer jeans, and I even cleaned my shoes. We walk in the general direction of the piazza, listening to the distant sound of the waves and feeling the sun on our backs. We pass the local bakery and I duck inside for a moment.

"Hey, need any help today?" The baker smiles at me but declines my offer.

"Not today, Alex! Go on ahead to the reaping- now of all times you deserve a break, and people don't usually buy when they're stressed. They're just too preoccupied!" I wave goodbye and leave, still chatting about the practice with Bethany and Archie. Bethany kisses me before she sprints over to her age group and Archie separates from me as well. I go to the back of the seventeen-year-old section and he comes to the front of his group so we can chat. We've been close, even though he's a year younger than I, ever since I saved him from some bullies and got my scar in the process. The escort parades out into the light and I ignore him. For the time being, he isn't important. A girl takes her place onstage and then I break off the conversation with Archie.

"Maelstrom Lochlan!" Several boys tense up as a sixteen-year-old steps forward. He's not nervous at all. Volunteers have been commonplace in Four since about the eleventh Hunger Games. As soon as he reaches the stage… "Are there any volunteers?" Most of the boys who charge forward are from my section, but I know for a fact I'm faster than them; my speed is from my stage training. I scramble up to the hideously tattooed and painted escort- Hortia, I believe- and catch my breath while she offers me the microphone.

"I'm Alex Isis," I say, and the crowd claps. Good. This isn't a show; there is no reason for a standing ovation. I do have to restrain myself from automatically bowing, though. I turn to my district partner and we shake hands. She seems fierce- her grip is strong and her eyes are narrowed. I'm just glad I'm her district partner. Nobody wants to kill someone from home, and this girl isn't shifty looking; she won't be one to stab me in the back. Literally and figuratively.

_All the world's a stage_

_And all the men and women merely players;_

_They have their exits and their entrances;_

_And one man in his time plays many parts_

This is my time to play my biggest part of all. I won't say I'll come home, but I will say I'll do my best. Because, when you're thrown into a strange place with twenty-three kids trying to kill you, all you can do is ad-lib. And there are no guarantees about anything. I look out over the people of Four, I see Archie and Bethany. Out there in the crowd, standing quietly, are my parents and my little sister. Far out in the distance the ocean is an inky blue line. And my lines run through my head, memories from the stage play through my mind. And the only thing I can think is '_Will I ever see this again?_'

D4 FEMALE: CAMILLA THYRA

The train is sleek and silver, shining in the sun like a freshly caught sailfish. I don't let the Peacekeepers put me onboard; I shake them off and haul my own butt onto the train. They stand at attention until the train door closes. Soon I can feel the floor begin to move, however slightly, and marvel at the high-tech interior. The closest room is a lavish banquet hall, almost, except it's on the train, of course. The tables are piled high with food, but I'm not particularly hungry. The spectacle is amazing, but I'm just not interested right now. Instead I pass through a few more cars until I find people. The stupid escort, Hortia Pimpledome- what a dumb name- sits primly in a plush chair, while the two District Four mentors sit on the small couch across from her. One of them, a man named Kindi, nods at me and motions to a chair in between the victors and the escort. The other escort, a small, nervous man called Kurt, gives me a twitchy smile and clutches his cup of tea tighter in both hands. My male counterpart hasn't shown up yet.

"So when are things happening? Are we waiting for the recaps to come on?" I say. At home they usually come on television the night of the reaping, but who knows how fast things are on Capitol machines.

"Not yet, dearie!" pipes Hortia, "Those are in a few hours!" I roll my eyes.

"If you want sponsors, you'll have to lose that tough attitude and make yourself likeable," intones Kindi. Already? I just got on the train! He's entirely serious, though.

"In that case, I'll go to sleep." I am certainly tired. The slight rocking motion of the train lulls me to sleep in under a minute.

"Camilla… Camilla… CAMILLA!" Hortia's piercing shrieks startle me from my doze.

"What do you want, woman?" I groan.

"Your district partner is here and you've been asleep for two hours and it's almost time for the recaps!" Finally! I need to see who my opponents are- figure them out so I can get home faster. Alex sits in the chair next to me with a totally blank expression on his face. I have a few classes with him at school, but otherwise I don't know him. Wait- yes I do. He's one of the actors around the district, and Mom has taken Decktion and me to see a few plays before. Dad was always a bit too busy and he might have shouted out at the characters anyway. He can be a bit opinionated sometimes.

"Well, are we ready to watch the recap of the reapings?" Alex says. He stretches and runs a hand through his short strawberry-blond hair.

"Yes- most certainly we are!" squeals Hortia. Finally! I turn my attention to the television as it flickers on and the anthem of Panem plays. The Capitol seal fades into the background and the beaming face of Octavius Cairn takes over the screen.

"Well, welcome citizens of Panem to the reapings of the tributes for the Seventeenth Annual Hunger Games! I can already tell you we've got a terrific batch this year, so let's begin! District One, everybody!" I watch intently as a girl attacks several other volunteers on the stage and a boy runs up very early in order to get his spot in the Games. They'll be competition for sure, especially the girl.

District Two is pretty well off, too. Their boy isn't as muscular as some of the other boys in the crowd, but he looks totally serious and focused up there on the stage. The girl- whoa! Is that blood on her hands? I shiver. This girl is one to watch, and she won't hesitate to knife you if you turn away for a split second.

District Three- they usually pull out some stereotypical nerds, and this year is no different. A fourteen year old girl and a fifteen year old boy step forward nervously, and nobody volunteers. They won't be much competition, but I still won't drop my guard. Everyone's a threat and even Three has a victor already.

Then Alex and I are shown. I don't look too bad, actually. Alex doesn't either. We might get some volunteers right off the bat, although the girls from One and Two are pretty well off already. District Five is nothing special. A sickly boy and a girl who looks extremely anxious are reaped. Who knows, it could be entirely possible for the boy to die on his own. He has a strange shifty look in his eye, though. He's hiding something.

District Six stands out this year. Oh, the boy is average, but the girl scares me. She really scares me. She volunteered, saying the other girl wasn't cute enough. She probably isn't the sharpest one out there; maybe she has a bit of a mental issue. A bloodbath, probably, although sponsors will love her. The boy is a little freaked out by her as well.

In Seven the boy seems weak, and the girl… I don't know what to make of Laken/Merry. Maybe I'll get a chance to talk to her later, because she piques my interest. Eight pulls a girl who seems like she would be very… bubbly… if she hadn't been chosen and a boy who walks arrogantly. Usually the tributes from One, Two, and Four ally together in the arena. He looks like he'll try to get in on that. Hmph.

Nine pulls out a boy who's drunk- he looks strong, though, and he's not that bad-looking either- and Ten gets a girl who is wearing a red satin dress. What does she think she's doing, going to a fancy dress party? No. Just no. Eleven has the weirdest volunteer ever and the girl seems average. Twelve has another strong boy and the girl is interesting too; she refuses to speak to anyone on the stage, or do anything besides shake the boy's hand.

"Well, there you have it, folks! This year's tributes!"

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**I am leaving today for New York and the place where I'll be for the next two weeks has no place for me to write... so tell me what you thought, and I'll be back with the chariot rides in two weeks!**

**Oh, and there's a poll where you can vote for your favorites on my profile! :)**


	14. First Impressions: Chariot Rides

**I HAVE RETURNED! Thanks for all the reviews- I hit 100 and I only did reapings? You guys are awesome! Thanks also for the vacation well-wishes. It was great! Although I did spend an unrealistic amount of time writing fanfiction and figuring out this story. Unless something totally drastic happens with the characters in the pre-arena Capitol stuff, I have chosen my bloodbath tributes. **

**And 43 unique voters on the poll? The most I ever got on a poll before was 13. :D There will be a new poll after the bloodbath.**

**Still no story cover for this story... bleh. I'll design one when we get to the arena in five chapters (Chariot, Training, Scores, Interviews, and Last Day). Suggestions DEFINITELY taken into account! ;)**

**There will be one POV for each tribute in the pre-Games section. I already know where everyone will get theirs, and I can tell you right now no district partners are in the same chapter.**

**R&R! :)**

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DISTRICT SIX FEMALE: LUCIA GREENE

I'm cranky. My mother never came to see me in the cute Justice Building and so I decided to win the Games for her, to show her how dumb she is for thinking like she did. I slump down in my very cute Capitol chair until Baxten nudges me. I like him; he's cute too. He has pink skin and long rainbow hair, and he's no taller than I am. He likes me and not Chandler. Chandler is passably cute, but he's not fun at all and he doesn't even talk to me. Only the mentor, who is not cute, so I wish she died in the Games instead of being from the poor parts of the Capitol where people are district-poor and not as cute.

I stand up and flounce over to the window. We are waiting for our stylists and I love it here. EVERYTHING IS SO FRICKING CUTE! The buildings are shimmery and their rainbow glass is the same color as my dolls' eyes from the right angle. I rest my chin on my hands and look down at the shiny streets and the colorful cute people. It's lovely. Following a woman with purple children with my eyes, my head tilts until it falls from its resting spot and my cheek scrapes against the cute marble windowsill. I howl, but it doesn't really hurt. I just want to see something else. Chandler looks like he wants to run away from me; he's already sitting as far away from me as he can. Baxten rushes over to me and says, "Lucia! Lucia, don't cry! The stylists are here!" I immediately hush and look curiously towards the golden door. Two men step out, both tall. And very stylish and cute. I smile at one of them, but he's talking to Baxten. The other one isn't quite as cute, but he kneels in front of me.

"I am Vividian," he intones, "and I am here to make you beautiful." I hug him. I don't care if the other one is cuter anymore- Vividian (cute name) is here just for me! He ushers me down the hallway to a room where three other cute people wait for me, beaming. One of them has one cute jewel inlaid in his cheek. One of them has two gems, and the last has three. All of them have blue skin and orange hair. They rush over to me, all of them oohing and ahhing. I love the Capitol! Vividian hands the one with two gemstones, whose name is Deux, a piece of paper. She speaks in a high-pitched voice, using the Capitol accent.

"This one needs less prepping than usual!" They squeal, looking me over.

"Look at those brows! Did you do those yourself?" I nod, smiling. I shaved off my eyebrows a few days ago because I knew they were making me less cute. "They are SO in right now!" Cragan, the one with three gemstones, explains to me. He's the only boy in the prep team, and Un and Deux are his sisters. They're triplets! So cute!

They put creams and solutions all over me. Some of them hurt, but it's a cleansing pain. I'm going to be super cute! I can barely contain a squeal. They give me a silver jumpsuit to wear- not that cute- but then they send me into a different room. Vividian waits there. I feel so much cuter now! When I tell him that, he nods, smiles, and agrees.

"Now, Lucia, tonight is the night of the chariot rides!" I clap my hands; the chariots are always my favorite part of the Hunger Games! "It's my job to get you ready for this, and tonight you will shine!" He reaches behind him into a box and pulls out some sort of silvery stuff. "These are wings made to look like those of a hovercraft. You will wear these on your arms." I slip the wings on over the sleeves of the silver jumpsuit. They shimmer similar to the sides of the Capitol buildings and I wave my arms, giggling. Vividian smiles as well. "And these streamers will add a dash more of color!" He drapes colorful banners on the wings and attaches several on my jumpsuit. I'm going to be the cutest one out there! Vividian signals to someone that he's finished and two Peacekeepers take me to an elevator. It's a carpeted inside chamber, with full-length mirrors on the walls. I examine myself carefully, and drag a finger through my silvery make-up. There. Much better. The elevator stops and I climb out, suddenly a little bit dizzy. Oh well, anything for cuteness! Baxten comes towards me with Chandler in tow.

"Time to get to your chariot, Lucia! You too, Chandler!" I skip behind him to the line of chariots, watching as the coal-black horses for Twelve whicker softly at their female tribute. She's not very cute in a clunky black miner's outfit. I look at Chandler out of the corner of my eye as we approach our chariot. He's not uncute, which is good. As we pass more Capitol stuff- I wish I could have it all!- I'm overcome with a wave of happiness. I throw my arms around Chandler.

"I DON'T HAVE TO KILL YOU!" I cheer. The boy stiffens and I can hear his heart racing. "Don't be silly, I'm serious!" He's too tall, though. I let go of him, jump up, and kiss him to show him I'm sincere. He looks like he's about to freak out, and his makeup is smeared. He's outfitted like a Capitol car. I love District Six! He almost keels over when I finally let him go, and when we climb into our chariot he tries to edge away from me. He's so silly! I look at the chariot. It's open in front, where we can see, but in the back it's arched up like the end of a train. It's sleek and draped with streamers and SO FRICKING CUTE!

DISTRICT ONE MALE: ADRIAN RAIN

I turn around for my district partner in the jeweled suit. She tugs on the cape so it's arranged 'more artfully', as my prep team would say, and I groan as she almost chokes me. Seriously, she's worse than my stylist, Zyler! And he has been a Games stylist for seven years, too. Our district was the first of the trained districts to arrive at the chariots, so we stand in front of our chariot glumly. Athena is two years older than me, but the way she takes charge is akin to my mother's. Ugh. Both Two and Four have two seventeen-year-old tributes. Why can't Athena be my age, or I hers, so she won't bug me all the time? I'm not weak like most people think I am. They all think wrong. Finally I push away her hand from my shoulder and glare at her until the reflection of the torches on her jeweled gown hurts my eyes. Shaking a lock of my shaggy blond hair from my sight, I see two tributes arriving, and two more trailing behind them. Their confident walk gives them away before their outfits are clearly in view. Our allies. The girls are in front, already talking. The one from Two, the girl with the blood on her hands at the reaping, stops in front of us and stares me right in the eyes. I drop my gaze before I can think about it and almost curse. A sign of weakness! No! Athena holds Flavia's gaze until the girl from Four, Camilla, speaks. She's wearing a bright blue two-piece swimsuit. I'm not particularly interested, though. Romance is dumb in the Games.

"So you're the kids from One?" Athena nods, sending little sparkles from the gems woven into her hair all over the place. A dazzling rainbow of color falls on the faces of the two boys. The one from Four is the tallest of us all, and I stand a little straighter automatically. He doesn't seem like a preening idiot like some boys his height are. I nod at him and he returns the gesture. The boy from Two seems nervous, almost, but he's definitely strong. The silence is awkward now.

"So, have you guys done any training?" I say, "I have, for at least five years now. I'm one of the best in the centers in One." Camilla raises her eyebrows, but doesn't say anything. Her demeanor is calm, but something about her reminds me of a jaguar about to pounce. Completely in control.

"My mother's trained me for as long as I can remember," replies Athena immediately. Flavia has trained too, and Camilla. Gray was adopted by some crazy guy who trained him his whole life.

"I never trained." We all look at Alex Isis a little dumbfounded. Training is the norm. Why did he volunteer? "Well, not officially. I have weapons experience from Shakespearian acting, though." We nod; I notice Camilla rolling her eyes. This guy seems a bit off, but not crazy or anything. Just different. Shakespearian acting, huh? He's probably played some crazies, though.

"So, chariots?" Gray still seems anxious, but he's keeping the conversation going.

"Have you seen the guy from Nine?" Alex says, "He's eighteen and he's the biggest guy here! He's a monster!"

"And a drunk!" Athena exclaims, "A vicious drunk! He can't be trusted."

"The boys from Twelve and Eight are fair opponents as well," Flavia sneers, "But the one from Eight is a priss. He's all bark and no bite, and the one from Twelve looks like he's got real morals. Anyway, why bother adding into this pack when we're all planning to stay?" I shrug. "We are all going to stay, correct?" She's got a dark look in her eye, and we all nod. Quickly. "Good. Otherwise I'd kill you first. Well, second."

"Who's first?" Camilla says smoothly. By her amused tone, I can tell she has heard this story already.

"The boy from Ten. A few years back, my little brother died at the hands of the boy from Ten. This is the year my family pays that district back." Her voice is so dangerous I don't know how even Athena could defend herself from an angry Flavia.

A Peacekeeper's words break through Flavia's declaration, which is still hanging in the air. "All tributes to their chariots! All tributes to their chariots!" My allies dash away and Athena leaps up into our bejeweled ride. The horses neigh as I climb up too, protesting against the extra weight. Our chariot is one of the heaviest anyway, with all the jewels stuck on it. District Two is weighty as well, all metal with great suits of armor added to the tributes. Gray looks uncomfortable in his chain mail, but Flavia wears hers proudly. Over the heads of the tributes from Three, I can see Alex and Camilla in their chariot. It's blue and waves made of foam gleam on the sides. Alex is dressed as a sea king, complete with coral headdress. Camilla has a pearl tiara and very little else. A turquoise bikini, a strand of kelp twisting around her leg and up her torso to her shoulder. No, wait, here's a stylist with a sparkling green mermaid tail.

"District One, prepare to go in one minute!" a young Peacekeeper calls. She seizes the horses' reins and leads them to the gates. I grin. This is what I volunteered for, well, partially. I volunteered for the Games and the interviews and the food, too. The Peacekeeper dashes over to the wall and pulls a lever that triggers the doors. This is my time to shine. The Capitol screams as the chariot pulls out from the opening ever so slowly. So slowly…

Then I hear my name. "ADRIAN! ATHENA! ADRIAN! ATHENA!" My district partner is elated and slightly surprised to hear her name so loud. I'm ready for it, and I love the feeling.

DISTRICT THREE FEMALE: NEON WATTS

The District One chariot rolls into the colossal stadium and the screams hurt my ears. Really now, is it so necessary to scream that loud for kids, at least one of whom is going to die in a week or so? The Capitol has so many unnecessary necessities it makes me sick. And this stupid outfit my ridiculous stylist put me in is so uncomfortable! It's supposed to be modeled after wiring, and it's gray with red circuit board embroidery on the sleeves, but it's very tight and heavy. They used actual metal to form the wiriness of the dress. Newt doesn't have it much better- his tuxedo is made from the same material and its heavy jacket is weighing on his shoulders. Every so often a Peacekeeper tells him to stand up straighter.

Earlier I scouted out some of the other tributes and I've decided I'm not going to hang around any of them trying to form an alliance. They aren't the right people. All the boys are just shifty to me, except the ones from Six and Eleven. They're both thirteen, though. The girls are either weird, with the pack, or extremely happy. The girl from Nine came closest, but she's sullen and she looks like she would stab me in the back on the first night. I mean, I'd find it hard to refuse if someone asked me to join up with them, but the thought of asking someone, or being asked, just scares me. I can't be responsible for another person here, not when I'll probably die myself! I just have to hope nobody approaches me.

Our chariot begins to move and I grab the railing quickly to avoid toppling backwards. I do not want any sort of attention, much less a humiliating attention like that. The kids from Two thrive under the cries of colorful Capitol citizens, but I feel like I'm wilting when our chariot passes the wooden gateway. Everyone is looking at me and I can't breathe and they're all looking right at me and they're calling my name and Newt's and their eyes are following our chariot and they're discussing me and I can't just stand here and take it and they're all watching!

Everything goes black. The sounds are muffled and my blood pounds in my ears. The chariot floor sways beneath my feet and the next thing I know I'm lying on the ground with a light shining in my eyes. A purple man pats my cheek. "She's awake!" he calls, and the stadium erupts in cheers. My throat feels dry and I see the chariot stopped in the middle of the pathway. Newt helps me stand up and helps me get back in the chariot. My legs are shaky and my knuckles are white as I grip the metal bar once again.

I can't believe it. I fainted. I fainted because of all the attention and got myself even more attention! No! I almost feel the heat rushing up to my pale cheeks. I lean forward this time as the horses start trotting again and refuse to faint again. Even if I do, I won't fall out of the chariot again! We make it down to the edge of the stadium and the horses circle around once, displaying Newt and me to all the people again, before stopping next to the chariots for District One and District Two. The girl from Two narrows her eyes as she stares at us, and I look away quickly. I feel sort of like a piece of meat to her, and I don't like that feeling at all. Newt fidgets beside me as more chariots file down the pathway. Four is greeted with huge cheers, Five is miserable is Hazmat suits that swamp both of the tributes, Six is better than average with their transportation outfits, Seven is… astounding. They're dressed like tree nymphs, with the really weird girl in a snug tunic and leggings and the boy in a jumpsuit. The tawny mottled pattern perfectly mimics the pictures of leaves I've seen in books, and the girl's hair is braided with twigs, leaves, and berries. The boy is crowned with autumn oak leaves. They're both slight, but the crowd forgets their size and cheers for the outfits.

They don't even know the people yet. I miss most of the other chariots and even forget about keeping my good posture. I'm craning my head and twisting my neck to see the District Seven chariot. Even the horses have leaves in their manes! It's going to be a talked-about chariot on the recap of the Games, I just know it. If I could only live to see it, I would be happy. But I'm not happy, because I'm stuck here in this lavish prison where within a week complete strangers will be betting on my death. I hate it here. It's the small things. I've never seen a forest in real life before, so I figure the closest I'm going to get is this chariot.

Or the arena, a small voice in my head says. I squash it as President Riker steps forward in his private box above everyone else to give the opening words for the Games.

"Thank you, thank you, all the Capitol citizens who have arrived here tonight to witness history happen," he begins. The people in the audience cheer. "And welcome to the tributes of the Seventeenth Annual Hunger Games!" A bigger cheer. Why do these terrible slaughters happen year after year? It's coming up on two decades. Why do so many teenagers have to die? "I hope you all have a comfortable stay in the Capitol before you are sent to the arena. Only one of you will return." I've heard rumors that the President is a cruel man. The way his silver eyes narrow when he says these words, the sudden hardness to his tone, seems to prove the tales. "And, to the twenty four young people wishing to be that one- may the odds be ever in your favor."

DISTRICT EIGHT FEMALE: KARLIE MILLS

Our chariot begins to shift as the tributes from Seven exit the gate. I look down nervously at my shoes once again, just to make sure they're still here and I'm not just floating through a dream. This place is so big, so colorful, it takes my breath away. It's still totally horrible, but it is beautiful. I can only raise my gaze as our chariot moves forward and be swept away by the cheers of the crowd and their bright colors.

Our chariot is one of the most colorful here, from what I saw earlier. It's quilted on the sides with rich, bright fabrics, and I'm wearing a floor-length gown made from similar cloth. It's extremely soft- made of velvet and satin- and it's layered to show different tiers of color. Emerald, scarlet, and royal blue all have prominent sections, and the gown has a deep purple train. Tyman is outfitted in a suit where all the cloth displayed in my dress is arranged in patches to form his suit. We don't match that well. But the crowd can't see the mismatch from their seats. They see the matching colors and expensive fabrics and they don't see clown suits like last year. They love us.

My heart beats faster as the chariot comes into full view. My name swells and reverberates all around me, and Tyman swells with pride when he hears his own name. He's too arrogant. He says he wants to get in the alliance with the trained tributes from One, Two, and Four, but I'm not sure they'll let him in. He blusters a lot, even to our escort. He looks like a fool when he's shown up, which is most of the time. I feel sorry for him, though. I mean, if he dies in the arena he won't have had a chance to make the most of this week. He's just too arrogant!

I wave to the crowd and they cheer, throwing roses from the stands to be crushed by our horses' hooves. I smile tentatively and see myself, towering, on the screen. The Capitol citizens call my name louder and wave back to me. I grin for real now, the dimples showing on my cheeks. I'm starting to turn red, though, from the excitement of being loved by so many people. Luckily, the attention is diverted to the next chariot, the sheaves of wheat from Nine, and I can relax. Sarracenia and Alec don't get the best of responses, although the boy seems to be popular just for his stature. District Ten has cowhide capes and horned headdresses, which look pretty dangerous. The girl is beautiful and she basks in the attention of the crowd. The boy is handsome enough by Capitol standards, but he looks really upset. My heart goes out to him. Something inside is paining him, and on the screen I see a tear roll down his cheek. I wish the chariot rides would stop. Whatever he's going through, he shouldn't have to suffer through it in front of everyone.

I watch him carefully until his chariot reaches the edge of the circle and the Eleven ride is halfway to their place. The girl beams and waves happily to the crowd, sort of like I did except she's more lively and energetic. Her district partner, I remember, is the one who didn't mean to volunteer. He seems totally overwhelmed by the attention; I hope he doesn't faint like Neon Watts did! That would be terrible for him! He seems determined, though, and I consider Bay Farris once again. She's my age, and she looks like she would be my friend at home. Maybe I'll talk to her at training tomorrow!

District Twelve doesn't make a big splash, but after most of the lower districts did better than normal, it probably won't affect them as much. The tributes, Sara and Luis, are seventeen and eighteen respectively, and they both look sullen in their bulky coal miner's outfits. Sara looks really nervous, like she thinks the crowd is out to get her, and Luis seems distant, like he's not even paying attention to the crowd.

I face the President as he gives his opening speech and shudder at the end of it. How did such a man get to be president? How could he be so cruel? How could he have engineered the Hunger Games and gone through with the terrible things for seventeen years without any remorse? The chariots file out again, starting with Twelve this time, and Tyman and I soon reenter the stables. I'm glad to be away from the president; it seems like most people are.

"I'm going to go chat up the trained tributes," Tyman boasts as he strides away from me. I glare after him for a minute, but I can't help but feel a little sorry for him when they give him the cold shoulder. Now the tributes trail out to the elevators, usually with their district partners- although most of them aren't talking. The group of six from One, Two, and Four chat animatedly as they shove their way through to take the elevator first, knocking over the boy from Five in the process. I rush to help him up, but he shakes me off even though he's coughing hard.

I shrug and get into an elevator with the girl from Seven and her district partner. Tyman doesn't show up. The boy looks at me nervously, but the girl just looks at me. She's the one with two personalities, I think. She's not showing it right now.

"Karlie, right?" I nod and Laken smiles warmly. "How'd you like the outfits?"

"You guys were one of the best, I think. Although I really like my own!" I giggle a bit.

"Aw, thanks! Yours looks pretty comfortable. Is it soft?" We talk idly.

DISTRICT SEVEN MALE: ROWNE MERCER

Laken and the girl from Eight talk about the outfits, but I just watch them. This is not my thing. I'm trying to avoid stepping on the girl's long dress, but when she moves it's hard to avoid. I almost feel like I'm dancing. Or at least attempting to dance. Finally the elevator stops at floor seven of the tribute tower and I rush off, Laken a few feet behind me.

"So, training tomorrow? Do we want to stick together for the first day, or would you rather go it alone?" Laken says gently as we stand at the doors to our rooms.

"I'd rather be by myself," I reply awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the other. Does she want to ally with me? Laken is nice, but I don't want to see Merry again.

She actually nods and smiles faintly. "That's our plan, then! We'll go on our own paths. G'night, Rowne." She disappears into her room. I stand alone in the hallway for a few seconds- I never actually talk to girls older than I am- but it gets weird fast so I enter my room as well.

I've already torn off most of the leaves and stuff from my outfit, so I hurry to my room, wash off all the tree-nymph make up they put on me, and pull on a pair of pajamas. The chariot rides were much too stressful for me. I can barely remember anything today- it's all a big colorful blur. Only the screams of the Capitol citizens as they saw the District Seven chariot are clear in my mind. To me they sounded tortured, but they were cheering for me and Laken. The memory seems burned into my mind.

I dig through my costume, looking for the note Mom left me in the visiting room. It's there, crumpled, sitting underneath the small pile of cloth. I read it once more, then carefully refold it and place it in a dresser drawer. I can't take it with me, since I already have a token and besides, the paper will fall apart in the arena.

Tomorrow we begin the three days of training. That much I can easily remember. Laken wants to look for allies, but I don't want any. I can't risk an alliance. I'll just work with everything I can in an attempt to get myself a better chance at survival. The group of six will be just like their past counterparts- hunters looking for prey. There are several other boys my age- Chandler Mathews, Skyford Al'Rand, but I am not going to ally with anyone. Alliances make me remember something else, too: the boy from Twelve was talking to his district partner before the chariot rides, and I remember him calling the pack something. A nickname he'd made up. I wish I could remember it; it was an interesting name.

I'll try and stay out of people's ways tomorrow and the two days after that. I can't escape the interviews, so during the training days I'll have to get used to the thought of getting up there in front of all of Panem and talking about myself. Training will be busy for me. I've worked with a hatchet before, so I'll focus on that, and maybe I'll pick up a slingshot as well. I can't go totally unprepared for long-range battle, can I? Edible plants and first-aid are usually a good idea, too. Normally the arenas are outdoors and I'll have to find those if I don't want to starve to death. I'm not risking the bloodbath at all. I'm small, possibly under- the- radar small, but it's not worth the potential cost. I am not dying in the bloodbath.

I walk to the window and look down on the Capitol streets. Great hordes of fat Capitol citizens swarm from the place where the chariot rides were and giant television screens all over the city project tributes' faces and chariot outfits to the masses. One neon sign advertises a new anti-aging procedure. Why would anyone want to look young? Gray hair is a thing of pride in the districts; those with wrinkles are hailed as important. You want people to know you've survived for as long as you have.

Another sign directs people to the sponsor buildings. In the next weeks, the entire city will frequent the sponsor tables, trying to keep their favorite tributes alive. I guess Laken and I made a big enough splash to be remembered at the chariot rides- perhaps, if I'm able to pull something off at the interviews or with my training score, I'll get some real sponsors and not just the chariot money.

Retreating to the soft Capitol bed that I've been assigned, I feel oddly angry. I don't get angry that often. Now, though, I really want to hit something. What right does the Capitol have to do this to us? And furthermore, what right do they have to use it as entertainment? I collapse next to the plush pillow and close my eyes. It's just not right, any of it. I close my eyes and sigh, trying to let the anger dissipate. Before I can realize how tired I am, I'm asleep.

* * *

**I can't believe I wrote this so quickly. I think it turned out pretty well, though. Tell me what you thought! :)**


	15. Allies and Ambition: Training Days 1 & 2

**Welcome to training! (Where everything's made up and the points don't matter! -if you get this reference I'll love you forever-) Here alliances are formed and skills are honed and learned. Here is where you learn to survive or die.**

**Again, I do not own Shakespeare. This goes for almost every chapter where Alex does something.**

**The first two days of training are featured, and the third is left a mystery. :) No alliances are formed on Day 3 of training, I can tell you that much! A line will tell you where the first day ends and the second begins.**

**R&R! :)**

* * *

DISTRICT TEN FEMALE: RUBY ELIS

I wake up and stretch, the silk pajamas sliding up my arm as I raise my hands in the air. The sun shines through the window, illuminating the dust motes swirling through the room. I stand up, walk over to the closet, and ruffle through the many outfits that hang inside. Eventually I choose a lavender shirt and deep purple pants that look great on me and walk out to the breakfast table. Blue is already there, with his head bent quietly over a plate of sausage and eggs. He'd be cute if not for his social class and depression. His brother went into the Games a few years ago, and apparently he's not over it yet. I pick up a plate and fill it with sugared fruits and breakfast pastries. I still think some expendable poor girl should have been chosen instead of me, but for this sort of stuff I don't mind as much.

Our escort comes in, arguing with our mentor. Mose Blacock is a Capitol citizen, a Hunger Games and Dark Days historian. He and Janus are going back and forth about some riddle that Janus told that Mose thinks is factually incorrect. I roll my eyes and daintily nibble on a pear as the two men fight. When the argument cools down, Mose turns his attention to Blue and me. Finally! I pat a curl of my chocolate-colored hair back into place as our mentor sits down across from me.

"Today is the first day of training," he says. Obviously. "And so you must choose your strategy. Your entire lives from now on are going to be a battle- and that's just before the Games." I dab my sticky fingers on a napkin and Blue raises his head. "In these days of training alliances are formed- relationships that will save you or kill you."

"I'm not forming any alliances," Blue blurts out, "I won't be able to live if I have a friend in that arena who dies, or who decides to turn on me. Not after what happened to my brother." Mose nods.

"Your brother was Cordovan Anston, I presume?" Blue bites his lip and nods quickly. "Well, then, that will be your strategy. Anything else?" Blue looks at me.

"Not right now." Oh, that's the way this middle-class kid is going to play it? He doesn't want to talk in front of me? I sniff haughtily.

"I'm not decided yet," I say, "Let's go to training so I can find out!" I flounce out of the room without another word and Mose and Blue hurry after me to the training center.

Other tributes trail out of the elevators and center around a woman in the middle of the room.

"I'm Kiriel, the moderator of the Training Center," she begins, "Twenty three of you will die. This is where you can learn the skills that might help you survive. There is no fighting with other tributes. Avoxes will serve that purpose. It would serve you well to remember that not all tributes die in battle, and many die of poison and natural causes as well. Go now." The twenty-four of us scatter. The pack of six trained tributes gravitates immediately to the weapons, where they no doubt will try to show each other up. Some of the other tributes stick with their district partners, and others go straight towards the complete strangers. Blue and a few others go to the stations right off, avoiding human contact.

A small hand on my shoulder makes me whirl around quickly. The girl from Six, the only twelve-year-old in the Games this year, looks up at me with big green eyes. She doesn't have any eyebrows, which I find very odd, but she smiles up at me.

"You're very cute," she says. I can't help but smile.

"Aw, I think you're cute, too!" She nods.

"I know that." She wanders over to the camouflage and dips her fingers in the red paint, swirling them around to draw a butterfly.

"Do you want me to come with you?" The words burst from my lips before I can think about them.

"Yes. I want you to be my friend. You're the cutest tribute here!" She reaches out for my hand and I let her grasp it. I don't know her social status, so I'm going to tell myself she's high class. I just fall for little kids like that, and she really is sweet, if slightly obsessed. I help her paint for a bit, and then she wanders over to the snares station. The boy from Three stares at us for a minute, swiftly unravels a complicated trap he made, and darts off to first aid. Lucia weaves ropes together pointlessly, and I look helplessly at the cute trainer who is in charge of the station. He tries to take the ropes from Lucia, but she howls and he relents. She still carries the ropes in one hand- she's holding onto me with the other- as we go to weapons.

All the things they have here are huge! Spears taller than me, swords with handles I can barely hold on to, axes with blades the size of my head, bows that I can't even begin to draw! On the lightest draw weight, I manage to pull back the string, but it snaps into the soft flesh on the inside of my wrist and I leap back, my arm burning.

Lucia plays with knives as I finally find something I can use. The blowgun is simple and small enough to be easily carried around. The trainer shows me how to load it and I even hit the target a few times!

I'm feeling better and better about my chances. I found an ally, albeit one I have motherly feelings towards, I found a weapon I can use, and I still have two days of training left! If only Mother, my boyfriend Chandler, Clarisse, and Adeline could see me now!

DISTRICT TWELVE MALE: LUIS THOMSEN

I carefully choose a bow from the rack of weapons, making sure I can pull back the string far enough. The trainer hands me a quiver of arrows and points me towards a target range. There are two other boys there, the Career from Two and the sickly kid, Octavian, from Five.

"How are you doing?" the Career boy says cheerily. I'm wary, but I tell him 'fine' and nock an arrow. When I let it fly it speeds past the outer edge of the target. "Wow, you've got some power behind your draw," Gray says. I notice he doesn't have a bow.

"Why are you even bothering to talk to me? Don't you have a Career pack to hang out with?" I'm blunt. I know it, and I don't care what other people think about it. I notice Octavian smile a bit as he pulls back on his bowstring- the bow is as tall as him, and he has a bit of difficulty nocking the arrow, but the shot embeds itself in the ring right outside the bullseye.

Gray is taken aback. "Well, we were scouting a bit for- wait, what did you call me?" Ah, crap, I must have used the nickname! I roll my eyes. I'm not a people person around kids like him.

"Career. It's my name for the tributes who train. What were you saying?" Gray grins.

"Hey, that's a cool name! Ha! Anyway, we were scouting and I wanted to see if you would accept an invitation to join us if we offered it. We're not sure we'll take anyone else right now, but you seem pretty strong and-"

"No. Not with you guys. You're Capitol dogs and besides, I'm already in an alliance." It's true. Sara and I have similar feelings about the Games and the Capitol and we decided to ally up on the train. "You kill at the drop of a hat and you never have morals. Get lost, before I find an axe and lodge it in your face." He backs off and leaves me alone. I turn back to my bow, letting another arrow fly just past the target.

"That was pretty awesome," says Octavian from my other side, "They knocked me down last night, when they were leaving the stables. Do you have morals?"

"I guess," I reply, "I mean, I can't imagine killing another person, and I don't see why they train for it." The boy coughs into his shirtsleeve and considers the information for a second.

"You think you're good with an axe?"

"Fairly."

"Who's your ally?"

"My district partner, Sara Ross."

"Can I be in the alliance?"

"What?"

"I want to be with you guys. You're both strong, by the looks of you, and I'm good with long range weapons. And you won't turn around and kill me off because I'm sickly." Everything he said is true. This kid isn't so bad. It's not like I'll be his buddy all of a sudden, but he could be useful.

"Let me talk to Sara." I jog over to the slingshots, where Sara is pegging dummies in their faces with pebbles. "Hey! Sara!" She whirls around.

"Can we add the kid from Five to our alliance?"

"What? Why?"

"He's nice enough, he's handy with a bow, and he's too sickly to kill us." Blunt.

"What if he's faking? He could be faking the nice part. Are you good with people- good enough to tell that?"

"No, are you?"

"No." She rolls her eyes. "Fine, bring him in. On one condition- I get to bring the girl from Seven."

"WHAT? The insane one? Sara, she WOULD kill you in your sleep!"

"No, Laken's perfectly kind and a great ally. She's strong from working in the lumberyards in Seven. And she doesn't want to kill. And she said she doesn't ever go insane!" Before I can ask her how she knows all that, she continues. "I talked to her last night, before you got down to the chariots. She's willing to ally with anyone who wants her, so you better agree or disagree right now. And that insane side of her is a totally different personality. She didn't even mention it. I think Merry comes out when she's freaking out only- and Laken doesn't even realize it." I heave a sigh of exasperation.

"Fine. Go tell her." I jog back over to the bows, tell Octavian the good news, and retreat to axes, where I mull over the situation while hacking at a dummy. On the bright side, my allies probably won't try and kill me. And they're varied in their skills. On the other hand, I'm not a people person, and my alliance has doubled in about five seconds. Four people is almost the size of the Career pack. That's really big, especially for the Hunger Games. Especially for me.

* * *

DISTRICT ONE FEMALE: ATHENA MONROE

The second day of training brings some new challenges to my plate. I was chosen to be leader of the pack, since I'm the oldest, and Flavia is going to be second-in-command. Camilla was a little irritated that she wasn't chosen; I'd feel the same way if I were her, actually. We're fairly similar. The boys have their own little hierarchy- they all resign themselves to the same level as Camilla. Adrian was being hotheaded this morning at breakfast and whined about not being top dog. Too bad for him- he's the youngest of us anyway. I step into the elevator on the way to the Training Center and zoom down to the underground level. I'm one of the first to arrive, along with the tributes from Nine and Eleven, and I stand in front of the obstacle course until my alliance arrives.

"So, reports?" I start off. We all scouted yesterday for potential threats.

"The idiot from Eight, Tyman, wants to get in with us," Adrian pipes up.

"The boy from Nine is a menace- we should take care of him early on," declares Alex. Camilla nods in agreement.

"His district partner is fairly dangerous as well," she says, "I was talking to her and she's determined to get home."

"I found out there are several alliances forming," I take my turn, "the girls from Six and Ten, the girls from Eleven and Eight, and the pair from Twelve has been hanging around the girl from Seven and the boy from Five. And, of course, us." They murmur. A group of four sounds like the anti-pack groups that have formed in the past.

"The boy from Ten is good with swords and he's strong. He's my kill," Flavia says.

"Hey, Flavia, if we find him we'll bring him to you, okay?" Gray says, "Anyway, I was talking to the boy from Twelve. He said he'd never ally with us and he threatened me personally. He also calls us Careers, since we train for this. Isn't that funny?" I grin.

"Well, I sort of like that. We're the Career pack! Anyway, his alliance is going to be our main target- with the boy from Ten, don't worry, Flavia- so we'll hunt them, I think! Are we all good?" Everyone nods. "Let's try this obstacle course. We worked on offense yesterday before scouting, and today I want to see your defense skills. Tomorrow we'll do all the other stuff. Careers, go!" That name is really interesting, and certainly a lot easier to use than 'pack of kids who trained at home'. I'm gonna use it now- we all are. It sticks. "Two at a time through the course!"

Flavia and Adrian race to the obstacle course and put on the helmets that the trainers provide. The first section is a set of shifting platforms, each higher than the last, which Flavia scoots through with ease and waits on the last for Adrian to catch up. He seems a little warier of the exercise than the girl. The next part requires them to swing on a set of rings to a stable platform. Adrian goes through easily this time, and Flavia wipes her hands on her pants before she enters. She almost slips halfway through, but she makes it. A small maze is next, which has things you have to crawl under, slip through, and climb over. Flavia leaps over things with ease and rolls under, but she almost gets stuck on the go-betweens. Adrian slips through it easily, although close to the end he falls down a particularly high wall multiple times before climbing over. They come out smiling, Flavia about half a minute before Adrian.

Next Camilla and I enter the course. We both do fine all the way to the end of the rings, where Camilla misses the last one. By reflex I grab her hand and haul her up to the platform. We're matching each other step for step through the maze, and we exit at the same time. We give each other a slight nod, but we're both smiling. We did awesome. _See, Mother? I'll live!_

"Hey! Hey, guys!" a voice Adrian groans at pipes up from nowhere. Tyman rolls his shoulders back confidently as he turns around the side of the obstacle course. "Have you made up your mind yet?" I roll my eyes and step forward.

"We're not accepting anyone else into our alliance."

"C'mon, please?" I shake my head. "Even if I do better than you on this course?" Well, let's humor the boy. I motion for him to take a helmet. Camilla and the rest of the Careers stare at me, but I wink at them. Camilla catches my meaning and whispers to them. I see Flavia and Alex smile. Tyman prepares to leap onto the first platform, and he does so more gracefully than I thought he would. I could have just made a serious mistake. He leaps from one platform to the next easily- better than Adrian did, and possibly better than Flavia. I'm worried now. Is he still a threat? He leaps out for the first ring and disaster happens. He only grabs it with one hand and misses the next ring, collapsing twenty feet to the nets below.

"Guess you're not in," I say. His face falls.

"You just wait. I'll show you! I'll show you!" He storms away in a huff.

"Ambition should be made of sterner stuff," Alex murmurs. Adrian, Camilla, and I snigger. "Gray, our turn!" They step up to the platforms and start going through. Alex, being the tallest of us, has long arms and legs and makes it through quickly. Gray seems to hesitate before each leap and swing, but when he jumps he makes his goal each time. He's far behind Alex, though. We wait for them to get through the maze. And we wait. And wait.

"Where are they?" Flavia asks. Then they come out, Alex leaning slightly on Gray's shoulder. "What happened? You guys were in there for like, ten minutes!"

"I hit my head going under one of the bars," Alex explains sheepishly, "Gray waited for me to come to. I'm fine now." I bite my lip, but he seems all right. We go back to the weapons.

"Defensive test, everyone!" We walk over to the tables where twenty-four packets of paper are laid out. Defense tests. I read the first question on mine as the others find their copies: _What is the correct defensive grip on an axe? _ Four illustrations lay beneath, and I circle my choice. Most of it is on technique of fighting, but about a fourth of the questions cover safety and alertness. _Which of these is the most effective nighttime watch system? _My mom didn't ever skimp on training, so I feel like I did well.

We hand in our tests and wait impatiently while the instructor scores them. He spreads the graded papers out in front of him- there's no way any of us could fake a higher score.

Alex scores perfectly, and Camilla and I each missed one question. Gray missed four. Flavia, surprisingly, missed eleven out of fifty. "I don't wait for them to attack me," she says sullenly.

DISTRICT THREE MALE: NEWT HILLEN

The Peacekeepers tell us it's time for lunch, but the snares instructor is kind enough to let me hold onto the rope I've been working with. "Bring it back after the meal and show me what you have," she says. I fiddle with the length of cord as I make my way to the tables. A feast is laid out; well, for us it's a feast. In the Capitol it's probably meager pickings. There are whole roast turkeys out for us, though, and lobsters and heaps of fruit and pies and other stuff. The baskets of bread have all different kinds in them. I take a plate and put a simple sandwich on it alongside a small bunch of grapes. I'd rather focus on my work than on my food; I do it all the time at home.

Home. Where Jaz and my parents are waiting for me. Where Adonia is waiting to say that she was right, I did come home, and Danny is going to argue and say she never stated those exact words or something. And Laya, who gave me her hair clip as a token and kissed me. I had to have been so oblivious… I feel the heat rushing to my cheeks and try to focus on my rope again. I was working on a fairly simple trap that used a lot of rope to first snare the victim by the whatever-they-stick-in-the-loop and then tangle them up as they tried to get out. The rope is so long, though, I find it difficult to even tell where to start knotting. Oh well, that's what I get for learning the other snares this fast!

It's twenty minutes and one bite of sandwich later that I think I have it figured out. I lay the snare on the table and cram a chunk of food in my mouth, trying to do what I was originally planning to do at lunch- watch my opponents and eat. If I ally with anyone, it'll be someone intelligent. I don't want to explain menial things in the Games when I should be focused on surviving.

"You know, if you tied this off about five feet shorter it could be used as a slingshot?" a voice says. Someone picks up my snare and examines it. "It's really good, though. I was at that station earlier and I saw this in the book. Didn't bother trying, though. What's the point learning this extremely hard- for me, anyway, you've got it down- if I can learn different, easier things that I'll actually use?" Finally, another tribute that's talking sense! I look up. Chandler Mathews of District Six, age thirteen if I recall correctly, looks at me curiously. "You're really good with this kind of stuff."

"And you seem to be pretty familiar with slingshots."

"Yeah, my friend and I used to make them and shoot at walls when we were younger, back home."

"Friend? Not friends?" I don't know why I pick up on things like that. It's a part of why I'm not particularly social.

"Yeah. Friedrich. I play ball with some other guys, but they're more like acquaintances." Well, another classic nerd, although a little more athletic. Socially awkward, intelligent… like me. Except younger.

"Allies?" He opens and closes his mouth for a second or two, like he never expected an offer. I guess he didn't.

"Sure… Newt, right?" I nod.

"And the next order of business- any other allies? I had the girl from Eleven chatting with me earlier, and she said she wouldn't mind allying with me. Your view? I saw her with the girl from Eight earlier." I didn't accept. She seemed kind enough, but even I could tell she wanted me for my brains.

"Um… I'd prefer not- the only girls I can talk to without embarrassing myself are my mom and little sister. I think this is fine." I nod. I'll take a two-person alliance. It's better than being alone, that's for sure! Chandler sits down beside me and looks around. "What now?"

"We figure out who to avoid. The boy from Twelve calls the trained kids from One, Two, and Four 'Careers'. They're definitely the biggest threat, although Luis is in a strong alliance of four."

"Lucia is allied with the girl from Ten who acts like she's better than everyone else."

"The girls from Eleven and Eight, like we mentioned earlier. My district partner, Neon-"

"The one who fainted?"

"Yeah, that wasn't fun. Anyway, she's going solo. So are Blue Anston and Rowne Mercer. The other kids still seem pretty open to alliances."

"Alec Ryans and Tyman Gruiter are pretty brutal, from what I've heard. We should steer clear from them as well," Chandler concludes. Nobody else seems so be that dangerous. Yet. I watch for a few minutes as the Careers joke around and stuff their faces. The girl from One is their leader, and she sits in deep conversation with Camilla from Four. Slightly disgusted by their boisterous behavior, I turn back to my newfound ally.

"I think it's about time for lunch to end." He nods. When we stand to go, the Peacekeeper nods and allows us to return to the training stations. I turn in my work to the snares instructor, who is satisfied with my performance, and Chandler votes we go to first aid.

"I use a slingshot- actually, just about anything that requires throwing I can use pretty well; you use snares. I think we're covered for weapons. Do you wield any sort of blade?"

"I guess I could use some sort of sickle- they seem fairly simple." We don't give the matter much more thought and go to first aid, where we learn about tourniquets and how long it takes to die of blood loss and that fun stuff. He has us practice relocating shoulders and knees on a dummy, but the only thing I can think is _'I have an ally!'_

DISTRICT ELEVEN FEMALE: BAY FARRIS

Karlie and I get along really well for having met a day ago. We remind each other of ourselves, I think- we both find ourselves laughing when we make mistakes instead of getting upset and smiling all the time. We agreed to ally on the morning of the first day and we've worked on the same stations since. We did the obstacle course the first day and I made it through all the way without falling. I know plants pretty well, too, but the 'Outdoor Nutrition' station was really hard to find wedged in between spears and fire-making. Karlie is going to be a valuable ally with her camouflage skill and curiosity. She's asked several questions that I never would have thought of, and they've gotten us interesting survival facts in return.

There's really only one skill we have to try out now before we can go back to work on whatever we want to do. Fighting. Karlie and I both are extremely scared of killing people. That's just wrong, and I'm going to have to go insane or something before I can do something like that! We'll stick together till the end.

We go over to the instructor and ask what we should work with first. He takes some quick measurements and has us do some sort of test to see how strong we are.

"Knives. That's about the only thing you girls are strong enough to do. You with the blond hair can maybe manage the lightest bow, but those light bows won't do much good unless you're within twenty feet of a person. And you, the dark-skinned girl, you're too small to do anything else. Work with daggers." We take no offense at his words; instead we go to the knife station. The woman there says she's an expert with throwing knives, but she is willing to teach us about daggers. Karlie tentatively takes a long knife and I pick up one as well. I'm willing to try this out, but I still don't ever want to use it. We learn how to stab, slice, and wound; she tries to teach us about vulnerable places but we both refuse. We can't handle that. The dummies are ready for use, but my hands are trembling as I scratch up the canvas skin with my blade.

"I… I think we're done here," says Karlie. The woman nods and dismisses us.

"What are we gonna do if we can't defend ourselves?" I say. The truth is really sinking in.

"We can. I know we can. We won't let each other die." Karlie looks deep into my eyes. "Right?" I bite my lip as my resolve strengthens.

"No. We're gonna live." I hug her and for a second we're just two normal fourteen-year-old girls.

"HEY! TRIBUTES! TRAINING'S OVER FOR THE DAY!" a Peacekeeper shouts. Karlie and I look up, startled, but we go to the elevators and head up to our rooms.

"See you tomorrow, ally!" We allow ourselves a giggle.

Skyford sits alone in the luxurious rooms on our floor. There's only one floor above us, so the view is pretty spectacular.

"How're you feeling, Skyford? How'd training go?" He turns toward me and I see his eyes are slightly red.

"Not good. I mean, I can use a staff all right, but I'm thirteen! The youngest victor ever so far was fifteen! And nobody wants to ally with me! I asked every single person who's still alone, even Tyman!" I recall yesterday morning, when I asked Newt Hillen to be my ally and got turned down. That was before Karlie and really met, though. And why wouldn't anyone want to be allies with Skyford? I was keeping an eye on him yesterday. He is good with a staff, and he's a good person besides. He was trying to help his friend when he accidentally volunteered, and he's pretty funny.

"Nobody at all?" He shakes his head quickly and wipes his nose on his sleeve.

"Nobody!" I bite my lip. What should I do? I can't just leave him on his own in the Hunger Games, that's ruthless! The answer is obvious, but would Karlie agree?

Yeah. She would feel the same way I do. I know she would, and she wouldn't object to a weapons-oriented ally either.

"Do you want to be with Karlie and me, then?" He looks up at me.

"You're serious? You'd let me join you guys?"

"Yes! We wouldn't leave you on your own in the arena, Skyford. We have hearts." He smiles.

"Bay, you're a saint." He stands up and hugs me, bringing tears to my eyes. He's like my little brother, almost. He could be a part of my family.

"It's not polite to say 'I know', is it?" We both laugh. There's one day of training left, a day of the private sessions, the interviews the night after that, a day to sit around and freak out, and then we're going to the arena. "We're an alliance of three now. I'll tell Karlie tomorrow."

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**Yes- there are now five alliances. Here's the list (it's not final, there are still multiple Capitol chapters remaining, people!):**

**CAREERS- F1 Athena Monroe, M1 Adrian Rain, F2 Flavia Baxter, M2 Gray Tanner, F4 Camilla Thyra, M4 Alex Isis**

**A1 (alliances were numbered randomly)- M3 Newt Hillen, M6 Chandler Mathews**

**A2- M5 Octavian Amorous, F7 Laken Marx, F12 Sara Ross, M12 Luis Thomsen**

**A3- F8 Karlie Mills, F11 Bay Farris, M11 Skyford Al'Rand**

**A4- F6 Lucia Greene, F10 Ruby Elis**

**CURRENTLY ALONE: F3 Neon Watts, F5 Delany Lavis, M7 Rowne Mercer, M8 Tyman Gruiter, F9 Cenia Trallon, M9 Alec Ryans, M10 Blue Anston**

**I had a lot of fun writing this one. Heads up, the Capitol chapters will be coming out every other day and in the Games I will update anywhere from 3 days to a week and a half. **

**So tell me what you thought!**


	16. Do Numbers Really Matter?: Scores

**Here we are! We've bypassed the last day of training entirely (I was originally going to write it, but there wasn't actually that much to write. Move along, nothing to see here sort of stuff...), and these are the private Gamemakers sessions! :D Oh yes, and a little something the morning of ;)**

**R&R! :)**

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DISTRICT NINE MALE: ALEC RYANS

I'm sore after three days of training, but I can't let that stop me today. It's time for the private sessions with those idiotic Gamemakers, and if I want to leave my mark I can't start whining about some tired muscles. I crack my knuckles and go out to the breakfast table. Cenia already sits there, wolfing down some sort of omelet. Our mentor, Avia, sits at the other end reading a magazine.

"What are you reading, woman? Gossip about us? Do you freaking ENJOY that stuff- has the Capitol changed you that much?" There are a few bottles of wine out on the table- supposed to be for escorts and mentors. You think I'm gonna follow the rules? I grab one and break the top off so I can get to the liquor inside.

Avia slams the tabloid down on the table and pulls a pocketknife out of nowhere. "The Capitol changed me this much, true- it changed me so that I want you to live!" I'm startled, but I don't show it. I've got used to the whole 'threaten the kid with a knife' thing a long time ago, but it's new coming from an adult. "And I am reading gossip about you guys, so hopefully we can figure out what you need to do to get sponsors!"

"I told you I didn't need your help!" I bellow.

"Oh, don't worry, Alec. I'm doing this for Cenia. Our agreement is still in place." She seems sad, though, not harsh. Cenia fidgets in her seat at the tension.

"So how are we doing?" Avia relaxes at the question.

"Cenia, you're in the middle. That's pretty good, since our chariot wasn't one of the best this year. They think you've got some sort of chance."

"What about Alec?"

"They think he's going to win." I choke on my alcohol. Cenia thumps me on the back. Good- she, for one, isn't afraid of me. Avia tosses down the tabloid and leaves the room. "You guys need to go down to the private sessions in just a few minutes! They need to take attendance!"

Cenia looks down at her plate, emptied a while ago. I take another swig of wine. "Why did you bother asking about me, girl? You saw the Careers in training yesterday- they called me out as a target! This is about survival, not making friends! You'd be better off if you didn't know where they placed me- those things never turn out how they plan, anyway." She doesn't reply for a few seconds, and I feel a twinge of regret. Then I realize it and push it away. I say the truth.

"You told Lolium about the open window on the morning of the reaping, didn't you?" I'm startled, too startled to think of an alias.

"Yeah."

"That's what I thought. And don't bother yourself trying to say I shouldn't have asked about you. I'm still fine where I am- it makes me the least targeted. I just… needed to know."

"Why?" I haven't been this curious since I was eleven, joining my first gang.

"I've seen you fight before. In the streets, even. And in training you excelled at all the offensive stuff. I can work with a scythe and I know plants and first aid."

"Are you trying to ally with me, girl?" Cenia looks me straight in the eye with the same determined expression she wore at the reapings.

"Yes."

"Why? You know I'm a major Career target, everyone else will be after me too because of that stupid ranking, I'm three years older than you, I'm a violent drunk, and a freaking gang boss! You want to be my ally in the Hunger Games, Cenia? Really?" She could be a valuable teammate; she's definitely stronger than most girls I've met, but really. She doesn't know who she's talking to.

"You're a survivor. We both are. We could be a deadly team. They'd be afraid of us- it's one thing to target a loner, but it's another to target an alliance. And the Careers are after Luis and Sara's alliance, too. Don't let that 'victor' ranking get to your head. But I'll take that as a no, so I'll go down to the training center." She pushes back her chair and turns to leave. I reach out and grab her arm.

"No, I'll be your ally. I'll question your judgment, but I'll be your ally. Do you know Jullia Havoc?" Cenia shakes her head. "Well it's probably a good thing; otherwise I promise you would have never considered me for an ally." I knock back the rest of the wine and follow a fifteen-year-old girl down to the training center. I never thought I'd end up in an alliance, let alone an alliance with a girl three years younger than me. I almost growl, but I stop the noise just in time. I'd better learn to be around people fast, otherwise I'll earn myself a knife in the back during the first night. The string of curses that accompany my thought stay in my head this time, though.

We reach the waiting room and the few other districts that have arrived cringe when they see us. I saw during the reapings that Nine is easily the strongest non-Career (Luis is practically famous for that now) district, so I allow myself a smirk when everyone scatters. Cenia plunks herself down at a wooden table and I cautiously sit across from her. As more tributes come in and see us, they find their allies and start whispering.

"District Nine…" the Careers speak- the girl from One is their leader and she shushes them. Too late.

"…totally ruthless…" The boys from Three and Six.

"… should probably avoid them…" That's the kids from Eleven and the girl from Eight.

I finally stand up. "If you idiots don't stop whispering I'll kill you before the Games start!" The Peacekeepers turn towards me, but I flip them off and sit back down.

DISTRICT TWO FEMALE: FLAVIA BAXTER

After the drunk from Nine sits back down, we turn our backs on the rest of the tributes and begin to talk about the Games themselves. It's not like we get to chat after this.

"So, bloodbath?"

"We're all going up to the Cornucopia. That's mandatory. If you don't get up there, you're no longer one of us. In fact you'd become a target," Athena says.

"Okay, that's usually a pretty good strategy. We should divide up the tasks, though," Alex suggests, "Some should defend supplies, some should get weapons to others, and at least half should fight to kill." I nod. That seems simple enough, and it's a good idea. We may be fighters, but we're not dumb. We won't lose half the supplies while we're out killing people.

"I'll be fighting," Athena and I say at the same time. After a glance at each other, we nod and the boys and Camilla try to divide the remaining jobs among each other.

"I'll get you guys' weapons and then help guard," Alex volunteers for defense and so does Gray.

"I guess that means we'll have four fighting," Adrian says. That'll be good.

"We- the four fighters- should each have a kill by the end of the bloodbath," I say, "otherwise…"

"I agree," Camilla says, "but no punishment. Sometimes there aren't enough victims to go around." I capitulate to the compromise and we sit in awkward silence for a little bit.

"Adrian Rain, District One male!" the Peacekeeper guarding the training center doors announces. The boy stands up and struts over to the center, disappearing inside. The private sessions have begun.

"Care to share what you'll be doing inside that room?" Alex jokes.

"Nah, I want my awesome weapon skills to amaze you during the Games, not just training!" Camilla says, lightly punching her district partner.

"I'll tell you what I'm doing!" Athena says.

"Our fearless leader has chosen us to reveal her secrets!" I grin, "Come all, gather round the courageous Athena Monroe!" Alex and Gray laugh and sidle forwards while Camilla basically zooms around to stand by her friend. Athena looks around with mock seriousness to see if we're all paying attention.

"Arrows and some sword stuff, it's no big deal," she rolls her eyes and we all groan laughingly.

"Athena Monroe, District One female!" She strolls away from our group. Tyman Gruiter, ever-present barnacle of the Career pack, barges into our little group.

"Still refusing to take me as part of the pack?" he sneers. I draw myself up to full height- I come up to his chin.

"Yeah, and what of it? I guess you do want my blade carving down your face," my voice is deadly low. He backs away and I can imagine him as my dog right before I stabbed it- whimpering with its tail between his legs.

"Gray Tanner, District Two male!" Gray scurries into the training center as Tyman edges away from me.

"That's right, wuss. And don't come back!" Camilla is shouting at him. "Not you, Gray, you're cool! I was talking to Tyman…"

"You just wait until the bloodbath!" he calls out, "You'll learn!" Wimpy threats over, he turns tail and runs to the end of the line of tables to find a seat. I lean back in my chair.

"I know- I can't wait until you find out that we already know what you're made of- weakness."

"Flavia Baxter, District Two female!" I leave Alex and Camilla to go into the training room. The Gamemakers sit on their balcony, waiting.

"I'm Flavia Baxter," I say.

"Proceed, Ms. Baxter," head Gamemaker Cornelia Thames says.

I nod and snatch up a knife from the heap of blades, running the serrated edge along the tip of my index finger. When the skin splits I hold it up to show my audience. "No pain, no gain." I go over to a dummy and dab drops of my blood at the kill points. Then I retreat thirty feet, still holding the bloody knife. "I could throw it like this," I say, sending it flying blade over handle into the 'eye' of the mannequin, "but that's only for the bloodbath, where kills are quick and clean. It doesn't give much of a show." I retrieve the knife and coat the edge of the dagger with blood. "It's more fun to draw it out like this-" I drag the knife down the dummy's torso, replicating a torture scene, "- and make them scream. With some extra cuts here and here, this simple knife can become an instrument of the worst pain imaginable." The lines from my blood are crimson on the dummy; I back up and throw the blade again- it lodges right where I dabbed blood over the heart.

"I'm not a simple knife thrower. How boring is that, having a group of kids cut each other apart with knives? Poison is a great way to put on a show, and you don't even have to stay around to be part of the entertainment. I prefer killing in person, it's more tragic, but poison is my little friend. All you do is hide a small dose inside something else and voila! One step closer to home!" I stride to the edible plants station. They do have poisons back here, you know. The trainer keeps a few vials behind the table to show to kids trying to remember the scent of nightshade and stuff. Aha! I pull out several bottles and return to the center of the arena.

"Do you need something?"

"Yeah, hand me that whole roast pig." They share quizzical glances, but comply. "Pig flesh is very similar to human flesh." I uncork one of the bottles and take a whiff of the liquid inside. "This looks exactly like water, but it smells like the fumes from fresh paint. When poured on human flesh-" I dump it on the pig, "- it eats away the tissue. Do you want to see what the rest of these do?"

The Gamemakers sit stunned as their pig disintegrates.

DISTRICT FIVE FEMALE: DELANY LAVIS

I sit alone. I could have had allies, but I am just too shy to ask! The girl from Three, Neon Watts, would have been a great ally, I think. I sort of trailed her, but I never managed to get up the courage to ask her to ally with me and she never even acknowledged me. I don't think she ever wanted allies, so maybe it's a good thing I never got brave during training. I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings and I don't know what will push people over the edge_. You keep acting like that and eventually someone's going to push _you _over the edge_- that's what Beth said to me once. I sit cross-legged in one of the chairs, watching as the boy from Four and then the girl disappear inside the training center. Neon's already long gone, so there was never a chance to form an alliance here. I've never seen an alliance that was formed in the private session times; the pair from Nine is probably one of the latest alliances the Games have ever had. Ugh.

Seriously, even Octavian got into an alliance! The kids from Twelve sit with my district partner and the crazy girl from Seven at the far end of the room. If that sickly, shifty kid got allies, I surely could have. I think. Maybe. Maybe I'll find a group I can join in the Games?

"Delany Lavis, District Five female!" I take a deep breath and wipe my hands on my pants as I walk towards the heavy metal doors. I can do this. I can do this.

"Oh, that's Delany!" the young boy from Eleven murmurs as I stand up. Am I really that unknown? "Good luck, Delany!" he calls out a few seconds afterwards. I turn back to him and smile weakly.

"Get a move on, girl!" A peacekeeper grabs me by the back of my shirt and literally tosses me into the training room, where I lay sprawled on the ground for a few moments.

"Delany Lavis?" the Head Gamemaker asks. I struggle to my feet and nod at her. She checks something off on the clipboard she's holding in her gold-tattooed hands.

"Yeah, that's me." I watch her, waiting for her reply. She scribbles down something else and then peers at me over the top of her clipboard.

"Well? Are you going to do something or do you want a score of zero?" Oh! I was supposed to start! I wince and shuffle over to the knives, picking up several of the perfect blades. The target range will work better for me than a dummy; it's what I got used to in training. Time for me to try and show off three days' worth of knife training. Yay. I stand fifteen feet away and pull back my arm, the knife facing the opposite way that the trainer instructed me to throw it. Out of the corner of my eye I can see the Gamemakers looking confused.

Well, I was confused when I first started throwing on the first day of training and the knife always hit the target handle-first. So I adjusted. The dagger goes soaring through the air and embeds itself in the third ring of the target, sticking for a few seconds and then falling off. I cringe and chuck another blade, which stays in place not two inches from the impact point of the first knife. I can see that the Gamemakers get it now. I throw my third dagger.

And it goes soaring down, down, into the ground ten feet from me. Oops. I feel my cheeks flush with heat and I wonder sardonically how red I am right now. Hands slightly shaking, I replace the knives and jog over to the knot-tying station. The length of rope lies there, teasing me, and I fumble several times trying to pick it up. I can feel the stares of the Gamemakers on my back. They're. All. Watching. Me. I grit my teeth, finally manage to pick up the rope, and turn to face the adults again. I keep looking at the rope, though.

My fingers feel numb as I try to remember some of the traps I learned about. There was one that would send a branch slapping into another tribute's face, but you need a good base for that and I don't know what to use. There's one, though, that shouldn't be too hard. It's a manual trap where you close a rope loop as your enemy steps into a circle of rope. I clumsily tie off the rope at one end and begin to weave knots on the other side. The loop takes shape quickly and I hold it up to show the Gamemakers when I finish. I did pretty well on it, actually.

"Miss Lavis, could you please explain the purpose of your creation?" Head Gamemaker Thames says. I blush again.

"Um, you pull on this rope when another tribute steps here," I begin, motioning to the different parts of the snare, "and they're caught inside the loop." Another Gamemaker speaks.

"We require a demonstration to accurately judge the quality of your work, miss."

"Um, all right, I guess I can use a dummy." I lay the loop on the ground and begin to walk over to a mannequin. It's too late to drop the trigger rope before I step through the loop, and I accidentally pull it tight.

"Agghh!" I yelp, frantically working to get myself untangled from the rope. My ankles are both tied up and I fall over, unbalanced. "Help! Help me!"

"Thank you for your demonstration, Miss Lavis. You are now dismissed." The Gamemakers seem to take no notice of my predicament, but I catch some of them grinning and my cheeks are set aflame once more. Finally some Avoxes help me out of the room.

I totally blew it.

DEPUTY GAMEMAKER SCORPIUS HADRIAN

"What about the girl from Four? She was just as good as the girl from One!" I argue with my co-workers.

"No, did you see her stance? Not quite satisfactory." Julius tries to beat down my argument.

"Give it up, guys! We'll meet in the middle and give her a 9!" Cornelia quiets us both and types the number into a chart.

"That's it for the first half. Everywhere from ten to one, wow! Who's next?"

"Laken Marx, who demonstrated her knowledge of first aid and skill with a hatchet."

"Oh, I liked her! Seven!"

"No, she wasn't that good. Four!

"Seven!"

"Eight!" Finally we agree on six for her and three for her district partner.

"Oh, the girl from Eight was terrible! All she did was take a few swings with the long knife and then tell us how she wasn't ever going to use it! Two, for sure!" We agree and move on.

"The boy from Nine was impressive."

"His district partner wasn't bad, either!"

"I don't know, I though Twelve did better overall."

"Shut UP, Augusta!"

"That boy from Eleven was a joke!" Marcus laughs in his nasally voice. Cornelia's voice cuts through our chitchat and we all shut up quickly. The young woman has been extremely short-tempered ever since she was promoted to head Gamemaker.

"ENOUGH! We've got to get this done! Now answer the question- six or seven for the boy from Ten?"

DISTRICT ELEVEN MALE: SKYFORD AL'RAND

The one time I feel like I can actually get through something without tripping over my own feet and someone has managed to break my staff. It was perfect- just the right weight and height for me to use accurately. I got in there, went over to the stand looking for it, and it's gone, with just a few little wooden splinters in its place. I had to use the larger one and I was so unbalanced I almost knocked myself out with the end of the staff.

I glumly make my way back up to the District Eleven floor. I feel so miserable that I don't even take the elevator- I walk up eleven flights of stairs to get there. I don't want to face the scores. Why did someone have to break my staff? I guess if I look at the bright side, no one will be targeting me and I can find a good staff again in the arena- or a makeshift staff, at least. This could just be a good thing. I bound up the remaining two flights of stairs and enter the rooms grinning like a maniac. Bay is already there and she smiles when she sees me. She's really relaxed right now- this morning she was nervous because we had to tell Karlie that I joined the alliance. It worked out fine, though, and now that private sessions are over she's happy-go-lucky.

"Skyford! How'd it go?"

"Someone broke the staff that I used, so I failed pretty badly," I say nonchalantly.

"Aww, that's terrible!" She's genuinely upset.

"Nope!" I break into a huge grin, "Now nobody can target me, because they won't know how good I actually am!" I pretend to act superior. "I'm a Career and that little boy doesn't have a chance against me! Wait- he's got a staff! RUN AWAY!" Bay giggles and I plop down on the couch.

"There you two are!" our escort says, "I got your tokens back." He hands me Tholian's torn-up notebook and tosses a heart-shaped stone to Bay. "They disqualified the boy from Nine's- he had a busted bottle! Can you believe that? At least, though, that moron has a chance at winning. Unlike you two morons! Get your sorry butts to the television room, we're about to find out how low you two weaklings scored!" Bay and I share a look, but we scurry off to the TV room just as the static breaks and a program comes on.

"Bay, do you see a pencil anywhere?" I whisper. She glances around and finds one resting on a low table.

"What do you need it for?"

"Notes." I flip to the back of the notebook and number the page one to twenty-four. I label number twenty-one as Bay and put my own name beside the twenty-two.

The announcer and interviewer, Octavius Cairn, leers at us from onscreen. "Well, it's been a big day, folks! Your twenty-four beloved tributes have shown their skills to a panel of esteemed judges- the Gamemakers! They were scored on their performances and theses scores will doubtlessly be a foundation for sponsoring! Are you ready?" An applause track plays and the boy from One is projected onscreen. "Adrian Rain with a score of: 8." I scribble down the information along with some other notes.

"Wow, he's dangerous!" Bay whispers.

"Athena Monroe with a score of: 10." She's the leader of the Career pack and she's eighteen. The score is still impressive. I write it down. "Gray Tanner with a score of: 7." That's surprising. Usually the Careers get eight or above. "Flavia Baxter with a score of: 9. Newton Hillen with a score of: 6. Neon Watts with a score of: 4."

For District Four they shorten the announcement, which makes it that much harder for me to catch up. "Alexander Isis: 9." I scribble and scribble on my page. "Karlie Mills: 2." Bay shrugs.

"Well, she told us she was going to be uncooperative, so I think she's actually fine there," Bay says. I nod in agreement and write down more in my notebook.

The girl from Ten gets a fairly low score and then my own face is projected onto the television. Bay and I both hold our breath. "Skyford Al'Rand: 3." I bite my lip and nod, accepting my fate of almost no sponsors. Better less money than more enemies! Bay gives me a high five and then they put her picture onscreen. "Bay Farris: 5." She squeals a little bit and actually jumps up to do a little happy dance. I cheer as well and we sit back down grinning. It's not every day your ally gets a mid-ranged score! Twelve is pretty high, and so is Nine, according to my notes. I start writing them out carefully.

"Why don't you put the scores on one page and the notes on another, to give yourself more room?" Bay suggests. I nod and flip a few pages before I start writing.

_Adrian Rain: 8_

_Athena Monroe: 10_

_Gray Tanner: 7_

_Flavia Baxter: 9_

_Newt Hillen: 6_

_Neon Watts: 4_

_Alex Isis: 9_

_Camilla Thyra: 9_

_Octavian Amorous: 5_

_Delany Lavis: 4_

_Chandler Mathews: 6_

_Lucia Greene: 1_

_Rowne Mercer: 3_

_Laken Marx: 6_

_Tyman Gruiter: 8_

_Karlie Mills: 2_

_Alec Ryans: 9_

_Cenia Trallon: 7_

_Blue Anston: 7_

_Ruby Elis: 4_

_Me: 3_

_Bay Farris: 5_

_Luis Thomsen: 8_

_Sara Ross: 7_

There's gonna be some fierce competition these Games. I don't want Bay or Karlie to die, but I still want to live.

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**Yes, there was a surprise alliance lying in wait for District Nine! :) They will be numbered A5, so we'll mentally add them to the list in last chapter's A/N. And there are the scores! Hope the Gamemaker interlude was interesting to you all, so you didn't just get the scores from Skyford. :) Next up: for some eagerly anticipated, for some dreaded- the interviews!**

**Tell me what you thought! :)**


	17. Who They Truly Are: Interviews

**DISCLAIMERS: Sadly, I do not own Shakespeare. Fortunately, I do not own Twilight or My Immortal. :)**

**Interviews, interviews... Personally, I'd be terrified. I'm fine with public speaking, but for some reason not public interviews... :/ Some people would love it. (If you're a celebrity and you don't like interviews, get used to 'em fast!) Now, let's see how the tributes act! :)**

**Thanks to all the reviewers. I haven't had the time to respond to many reviews, but to everyone who's taken the time to review- you're fantastic and I love you :) **

**R&R! :)**

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DISTRICT TWO MALE: GRAY TANNER

"Well, I'm Gray, and it's an honor to be here today, sir!" I sit up as straight as I can manage in the chair as my mentor watches me. She reminds me of Granite, but before the visiting room. She's harsh all the time, but the last time I saw Granite he as screaming at me with spittle flying from his mouth about how I was going to die in the bloodbath. Not good for my already-fragile ego. Agate doesn't hate me. Yet.

"Don't give them your name! They know your name already! And don't be so stiff- that's just irritating and it makes you look afraid. Don't you know they think you're strong?"

"Since when? I got the lowest training score out of all the Careers!"

"Well at least you did better than most of the tributes. You volunteered, and that makes them believe you're powerful!" Why couldn't I have gotten Two's other victor, Colton, for my mentor? He's Flavia's brother, but apparently they don't enforce the 'no relatives as mentors' rule.

"Well, that's not exactly something that can be played up during this dumb interview, is it? Especially when I'm not really that good!" I stand up and yell at Agate.

"GET OVER YOURSELF! WE NEED TO FIND AN ANGLE!"

"THAT'S WHAT I'M TRYING TO TELL YOU! HOW DID YOU WIN THE GAMES WITH A LOUSY MIND LIKE YOURS?"

"SHUT UP!" Someone knocks on the door; Agate brushes off her skirt, pats down her hair, and opens it to reveal Colton standing there.

"Could you guys try to be a bit quieter in your mentoring for the interviews? I'm trying to teach my little sister to not kill the interviewer and it's difficult enough as it is." Agate glares at the younger victor for a few seconds and shuts the door in his face, but lowers her voice when she speaks to me again.

"This isn't working. We've tried confident, which you're really not; suave, which you failed pretty badly at; eager, which you aren't; tough, which is too hard for you to work with; and all the others aren't right for a tribute from Two. They want to see power emanating from you, not just a boy!"

"Well, thanks. I feel so loved."

"You are. It's time for you to go see your stylist, so shoo!" I gladly oblige and make my way down to the Remake Center. The interview outfit hopefully will be a lot more comfortable than the suits of armor Flavia and I wore for the chariot rides.

"There you are!" my stylist says. Her name is Mary-Sue Precious Isabelle Anastasia Louvette Bubble Helen Adorable O'Sparkly. She told me when we first met that her entire family died horrible deaths when she was only three and she grew up at the hands of her abusive father. Her flowing long blonde hair and natural rainbow eyes are the envy of every woman in the Capitol. All the men want her, but she's in love with only one, whose name is John and he has no arms or legs. Everybody who I've seen come into contact with my stylist seems to love her, but in complete honesty I'm terrified of her.

My prep team is no different. One is named Ebony Way and she has black hair and red eyes. She likes to talk in a confusing language that Agate has told me is called 'text speak'. Another is a girl called Bella, who hates herself and yet she has men fighting over her. One of them, who I thought was a woman, is on the prep team and he has white skin and he sparkles. He says his name is Edward. They're the most disturbing people I've ever met.

I grit my teeth as they get their instructions from Mary-Sue. "I want him totally flawless before I bring in the outfit! Three whole days of training are brutal on the under-eye bags!" Ebony puts some lotion on my eyelids before acting really weird.

"Ai nevur wantedd 2 be heer!" she says, "Ai wantz to b at hewm wit mai kittehs!***" **I don't understand her strange manner of speaking so I try to ignore her entirely. It's difficult. Ignoring her means paying attention to Edward filing my nails and Bella messing with an old scar on my shoulder.

"I don't even deserve to work here," Bella says, "I'm not really good enough. Edward is amazing, though."

"Just doing my work," the man says. His hands are like ice! Finally they back away and call for Mary-Sue.

"I have it ready!" she calls, twirling into the room in her hot pink mini dress. She hands me a stack of cloth and I dig through it. A tuxedo, as seems to be customary for the male tributes. I put on the crisp white shirt they provide and the pants, which start as black on the leg cuffs and gradually lighten to a medium gray at the waist. The tux jacket starts at the tails as the same color as the top of the pants, but lightens to white at my shoulders. However, it is patterned so that it looks like rock dust has been sprinkled on my shoulders. It's like a businessman fell into a quarry- better than it could be, though. Once they had the tributes from Two go to interviews with actual rocks on their outfits.

I scoot away from my stylist and prep team as fast as I can, hurrying to the elevator. The interviews are starting soon and I don't want to be late. Flavia comes out of her prep room as well and walks beside me.

"Excited about gossiping with Octavius, are we?" she mutters.

"No, but I don't want to be publically humiliated by being late!"

"Oh, you and your ego." I glare at her, but I don't protest. It's not worth arguing with her over.

"Can't we just go and find our seats already?" She rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, let's get out of here before my stylist decides that this stupid dress should be any tighter."

DISTRICT FOUR MALE: ALEX ISIS

Camilla and I find our seats easily and nod to our allies. The kids from Three, sitting in between all of us, look completely terrified. I feel sorry for them for a second, but if I want to get back home to Bethany and Archie and my family I can't have sympathy for any other tribute. I shift my attention away from them and look ahead to the interview platform. Octavius is already down there with some assistants adjusting his make up. Ugh. Imagine putting on that stuff every day! The Capitol citizens in the audience think nothing of it, but I couldn't deal with wearing stuff on my face all the time. My stylist used some on me to try and conceal my scar, but it didn't work too well. It's still pretty obvious that there's a jagged line down my face.

The cameras are set up and the last few minutes before the interviews start consist of Octavius joking with the crowd. I get more and more nervous by the second until I realize something that should have been completely obvious to me. This is just a performance. I'm getting stage fright. Stop it. And slowly I calm down.

"Hey, Octavius," a cameraman calls, "you're on in three… two… one!" He puts on a colossal smile and begins the program.

"Welcome citizens of Panem to the tribute interviews for the Seventeenth Annual Hunger Games!" he says amidst screams from Capitol audiences. "You've seen the reapings, you've seen the chariots, you've seen the training scores, but who are the tributes behind the appearances?" I can hear tributes muttering sarcastic answers to his questions. "It's time for us to find out, Panem! Are you ready?" A rolling scream is the answer from the crowds watching. "First up is the lovely Athena Monroe, an eighteen-year-old volunteer from the luxury-making District One!" Athena stands and makes her way to the chair, a jeweled headband glinting in her dark hair. They have three minutes, which pass in the blink of an eye with my ally portraying herself as a strong, confident leader. The Capitol people seem sort of miffed. Usually the girl from One is some sort of flirtatious siren. Nope. Not Athena.

I never get stage fright, and yet here I am with my heart pounding in my ears. I take Gray's and Flavia's interviews to do breathing exercises, and I start to make myself relax in the middle of Neon Watts' interview.

"So, Neon, what's your plan for staying alive?" Octavius asks.

"I can't tell you that," she says bluntly. She's really stiff in the chair, like she wants to bolt.

"Oh, c'mon, just a little tidbit of trivia?"

"No, you'll find out in just a few days." She's hiding everything. She doesn't say a single thing of any value in the entire interview. Huh. Mysterious. Her district partner gets up there and immediately is bombarded with questions. They want information. He's more willing to tell them that he's allied with Chandler Mathews and that he's good with knots and traps.

Camilla goes up there, resplendent in her sea-foam-green ball gown. She plays the same angle as Athena, although with a little bit of flirt thrown in. The Capitol catches the hint and suddenly they're hanging on to every word she says like dogs begging for a treat. I roll my eyes. My district partner is no Capitol flirt. Her buzzer rings and she waves goodbye to the audience.

Everything goes silent for me. I can hear a dull thudding- my heartbeat- but it's like I'm in the eye of a tropical storm. I'm totally calm. Why are my palms clammy? I wipe them off on the white tuxedo and adjust the turquoise cuffs before making my way to the interview chair. Forget all that stuff about sitting up straight! I lounge back in the plush seat before Octavius asks me the first question.

"Well, hello, Alex! It's nice to finally meet you!"

"You too," I say. _I guess, since you're one of the faces of death. It's wonderful to meet you!_

"Well, we saw the footage of you volunteering. That's out there plain as the eye can see! I have a question for you, though: why?"

It's a classic, one that he asks every volunteer. "I'm an actor. I trained with the stage. I figured that I have a shot at winning this thing, so why lose my chance?"

"An actor! What type of acting?"

"Shakespearean."

"What fun! Do you have a fav-"

"WILL YOU BE MY ROMEO?" a Capitol girl screams. I almost crack up laughing.

"NO WAY! I HAVE A GIRL AT HOME AND I DON'T PLAN ON DYING ANYTIME SOON!" I shout back. The audience erupts in laughter.

"So, acting and a girl!" Octavius says, "Can you tell us any more about them?"

"Well, my girlfriend's name is Bethany, and she actually directs a lot of the plays I'm in. At home, I'm in the middle of rehearsing for Romeo and Juliet and I just finished up a production of Othello. My friend Archie and I both perform. When I have extra time, I help out in the local bakery- can't just have fishmongers in Four, you know!"

"Sounds like a dream life!" Octavius says, "It'll get even better if you get home!"

"True, I talk of dreams, which are the children of an idle brain, begot of nothing but vain fantasy,  
which is as thin of substance as the air. But I suppose that sometimes you have to take life with a pinch of salt. Take what's coming to you, grab it with both hands and make the most of it because in these Games, you only live once! I'm in these Games for a reason. I want to make it back home the same as everyone else, and I know that the odds aren't in my favor."

"Even with allies like yours?"

"The Careers?"

"What?"

"Oh, Luis Thomsen came up with a nickname for the kids who train. He calls us Careers."

DISTRICT SIX MALE: CHANDLER MATHEWS

"And our boy from District Six, Chandler Mathews!" I stand up, take a deep breath, and begin to walk down to the interview platform. Lucia's coming back towards her seat and I edge around her. That kid freaks me out. She doesn't try to rip my throat out or anything, so I make it to the chair alive. "Welcome, Chandler!" Octavius says. He's so happy I can barely look at his clownish made-up face. He just got even happier when he realized that 'Octavian' had almost the same name as him.

"Hi." Lucia might not be the scariest thing I have to deal with in the Capitol.

"As one of the youngest competitors in the Games this year, how are you feeling about your chances?" Oh, great, he's going right into the deep end. They must have gotten tired of hearing about tributes' daily lives.

Oh crap, how do I feel? I can't speak, I can't think, I'm just frozen! I try to say something- at this point I'd be fine with saying 'I'm a unicorn! Beware the power of the Mushroom King!', but I just squeak.

"Speechless, eh? Clever answer, boy! I know I'd be tongue-tied if I were going into the arena!" did he just make a joke out of that? Really? The audience roars with laughter. "So, got any allies for the Games?" I'm so confused I manage to speak.

"Didn't you already find that out?"

"Yes, but we want to hear it from you!" Fine. I'm not going shell-shocked again.

"Newt and I are the smartest tributes here, and I think that's what matters. I plan to get home to my mom and dad and little sister and friend. Happy now?" Octavius ignores my last comment.

"Friend? Not 'friends'?"

"Yeah. I've got one good friend. I'm not much of a socialite, I get that. But at least I have one."

"What about a girl? Are you dating anyone?" I really do laugh this time.

"Are you joking? I'm hopeless with girls!" Octavius looks at me slyly, like he's caught me in a trap.

"Really? Hopeless with the ladies, eh? I doubt that, Chandler!" he slaps me on the back.

"Wait, what? What are you talking about?"

"At the chariot rides! You had a huge smudge in your face paint! And I should know- it was definitely a kiss mark. Care to explain?" Somebody in the crowd wolf-whistles. What? What is going on here? Then I remember.

"Do you want to know the truth?" Octavius doesn't even open his mouth before the crowd screams their assent. "Well, you asked for it. Lucia walked up to me and freaking kissed me. She said- and I quote- "I DON'T HAVE TO KILL YOU! Don't be silly, I'm serious!" I'm not sure how I was being silly, but at least it means I have one less person targeting me." The entire audience laughs, including the other tributes. That wasn't actually meant to be funny.

Octavius wipes the tears of laugher from his eyes. "Oh, that was hilarious!" I'm not really that funny, am I? "Anyway, care to shine some light on that six in training? Very impressive for a thirteen-year-old!" Thanks for bringing that up, Octavius, it'll certainly keep me from becoming a target in the arena!"

"Oh, I'm just good with… some things… in training," I blunder, "I can't tell you what, but I guess when your cameras are stalking me in the Hunger Games you'll find out."

"Aren't you a funny one!" The buzzer goes off and I rush from the platform as fast as I can. Not fast enough, though, as Octavius catches my hand and jerks my arm into the air.

"The best of luck to you, Chandler!" The crowd cheers and I disappear into the safety of relative anonymity. Laken brushes past me on her way down to the platform.

"Sorry!" she hisses, "and good job, by the way!" She's gone before I can reply. Apparently being a tribute gets me noticed by girls. Great. Just great. I sit back down as Octavius introduces her.

"It's wonderful to be here, Octavius!" she says kindly.

"You look lovely, Miss Laken. Can I ask you about your reaping?"

"I guess, but I don't remember what happened after I got called. I… blank out like that sometimes."

"Well, I think we can help you with that. ROLL THE FILM!" They must have been preparing for an answer like that, because Laken's reaping plays on the gigantic televisions behind the platform. How did they know she was going to do this? Everyone watches as the freaky 'Merry' makes her appearance.

"What was that? I don't do things like that!" Laken worries.

"You have no recollection of this?" She shakes her head and bites her lip. There are tears in her eyes. "Then our doctors have figured out why this figure who calls herself Merry appears. Have you ever experienced something traumatic?" She nods. Usually the Capitol would drag the story out of her, but it's kind enough to let Octavius go on with his explanation. "That experience has created another personality inside you, who appears to take over when you're extremely stressed. You have an alter."

"A what?" A tear rolls down her face.

"An alter. My dear, you have multiple personalities." Laken is terrified and obviously still confused, and she breaks down into full-blown sobs. I start freaking out, even though I'm in the audience. Her seat is next to mine; I don't know how to try and console her! Her buzzer rings and Octavius wishes her good luck. Then he whispers something in her ear, at which she wipes her nose, nods, and returns to her seat. "Wasn't that interesting, folks?" Interesting? They call telling a girl about a severe medical condition interesting? What a pack of idiots!

DISTRICT NINE FEMALE: CENIA TRALLON

It's actually pretty funny to watch the boy from Eight go on and on about how he plans to get in with the Careers during the Games. I'm giggling so hard I barely can stand up when they call my name; I do make it to the interview chair safely, though.

"Welcome, Cenia!" The crowd cheers and I think of what Avia told me. They ranked me in the middle for their assumptions of victor. They want me to survive. So I had better make this good.

"So, Cenia, how's the Capitol been?"

"Pretty good. I mean, the food is delicious, it's fancy, and I'm ranked in the middle of the pack in the betting lines, so I'm feeling pretty good for a fifteen-year-old who's about to go into the Hunger Games!" That is, it's a nice place for a location that's run by the epitome of evil and turns a blind eye to poverty in the districts. Octavius stares at me for a second before he recovers himself.

"H…how do you know where you're ranked with the pre-Games outlooks?" The crowd is astonished as well. I lean back in the chair and examine my nails.

"Oh, I have my sources." I can see Avia grinning from her chair.

"Hmm, it looks like I have another tight-lipped secret hider right here!" Octavius jokes. "Will you tell me about that impressive seven in training, or will we need to go through the backstory interview yet again?"

"Please tell us, Cenia!" someone in the crowd shouts.

"We love you!" another voice calls out. They really want to know. They're getting attached to me. These shallow, Games-loving Capitol citizens legitimately want to hear what I have to say. It strikes me like a punch.

"I don't think I'm allowed to tell you about the private sessions," I say with mock sweetness. It must sound pretty sincere because the audience seems to slump in unison, "But I will tell you about my home!" Octavius pats me on the shoulder.

"That'll do," he says. The crowd perks up again.

"Well, I live in the main town in Nine, although it's a short walk to the grain fields. My father works really hard to keep us supplied with food and other necessities, but sometimes it's not quite enough. So my friend Lolium and I-" I freeze. There's no way I can announce I steal food without bringing the worst of wrath down upon my friend and family. My dad would be heartbroken at my actions! Then I realize there's an easier answer. "- take out tesserae." I take a deep breath. Catastrophe averted. I'm back on track.

"What a caring girl, such a good family relationship! Do you have any brothers or sisters, Cenia?"

"Yeah. One older brother, Noah. I may never know what he's doing, but he's still my brother and I love him." I can feel the hot stings of tears behind my eyes. I blink a few times, forcing them away, but I'm slightly shocked. Realizing that I miss my brother and my parents so much, it really sinks in. I'm going to the Hunger Games and, no matter what I tell myself, chances are I'm not coming back alive.

"This Lolium character, is he… just a friend, or something more?" Why is the Capitol so sucked into romance? This is the Games. There is no romance.

"No, he's just a friend. A good friend, but only a friend," I say firmly. Sighs from the audience. Clenching my teeth, I try not to scream at them for thinking that every single teenager has to be in love.

"Got a strategy for the Games yet, Miss Trallon?" I try to reply, but all that comes out is a constricted squeak. I cough once and try to answer again.

"Yeah. I've allied with my district partner and we're ready." The crowd erupts in gossipy murmurs. I get it already! Nobody expected Alec and I to become allies with anyone, let alone each other. Well, I'm not going to let a powerful ally slip through my fingers. I'm not some hand-wringing whiny damsel in distress- I'm a fighter.

"That's an… unexpected turn of events," Octavius says, thrown off guard.

"Yeah, I know. Why, what did you think would happen?" I've done the unthinkable- asked the question to the interviewer.

"Well, um, some Capitol citizens think Alec is sort of evil. They think he was born a bad egg."

"They're wrong." I stand up. "YOU'RE WRONG!" Smoothing down the wheat-colored dress I'm wearing, I turn back to Octavius and explain, "People aren't born evil, but for some reason, the wrong things get put into their minds. Alec's different, certainly. But he's better than any of you are. Think on that." My buzzer goes off and I stalk away from the chair. Alec gives me a slight nod as I pass him on the way back to my seat and I'm still fuming at the total stupidity of this place. They can't judge him, or anybody. They're worse than any of us. I fold my arms across my chest and stew in my anger as Alec tells Octavius that the only good thing about all of this is the alcohol and the fact that after the Games there will be less people that bug him in the world.

He returns to his seat and I catch a few of the Careers staring down our way. They're nervous. Offering my palm to Alec for a high five, I smirk. They think they're the toughest kids on the block, and they flaunt that belief. I'm sorry, guys, but District Nine is bringing home a victor this year.

I plan to come home. If the Capitol is dumb enough to think Alec is evil and think they're good, then they may be dumb enough to underestimate a fifteen-year-old girl from little old District Nine.

DISTRICT TWELVE FEMALE: SARA ROSS

"And from District Twelve, the lovely Sara Ross!" I storm down to the interview platform in my coal-black dress and drop into the chair across from Octavius.

"Hello, Miss Ross! Have you enjoyed your time at the Capitol so far?"

"No." The crowd whispers amongst themselves. Octavius looks a little startled.

"Really? Not at all? This beautiful city-" I cut him off.

"This beautiful city is a terrible place filled with filth and hatred. You sit here and eat and drink while we in the districts starve! And you bring twenty four of us each year to die for your entertainment! This place is gaudy, not beautiful. It sickens me!" Then I give a sweet little smile and wait for the next question. Octavius blinks a few times before opening his mouth. I know he'll want to make this interview a fluffy one, because they'll edit me out for the most part.

"So, uh, Sara, what do you like at home that's better than here?" I smirk.

"Everything. Even the hunger."

"Well, I meant your family, and friends," he tries to explain. Pretending to be shocked, I reply.

"My family and friends? Really? I have a family, and I have friends, but since I'm not cooperating you'll probably torture them if I say who they are! I have a mother and older sister, and my father died in the rebellion, killed by a man who was hijacked! You killed my father! And that's not all you've taken from me. Eight months ago my boyfriend Archer disappeared. It was like he had been wiped off the map. That doesn't happen if he was kidnapped, there are clues then! He was taken… by the Capitol. I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU ALL!" Octavius sits there, stunned, while two Peacekeepers step forward and grab my arms. They drag me back to my seat with the interview unfinished, and I can only grin at the Capitol people seated above the tributes.

Luis grins at me as he stands. "Great job, that was terrific!" I grin back at him. I never thought I'd get to tell the Capitol publically that I hate them.

"And welcome Luis Thomsen, District Twelve male!" my district partner is announced and he sits in the chair confidently.

"So, I've heard something about a phrase that you've coined in training, Luis!" Knowing what is about to happen, I bite my lip.

"Careers."

"Yes, we know that much, but why?"

"The kids who train, it's their whole life spent for the Games. It's their career. Simple enough, or are you too dumb to even understand that?"

"I don't know, maybe I am!" The Capitol laughs at Octavius's effort to keep another tribute from looking rebellious. "Got an alliance who's smarter than me?" This will actually be the first time our alliance will be mentioned. Octavian mostly talked about his life in Five and spilled some interesting secrets about some of the people there. It was creepy. Laken, of course, went through that awful self-discovery session, which should be illegal. That was a terrible thing to do to the girl. I got dragged away early, so it's Luis or nobody.

"Yeah, I do. A group of four total, but you have to wait and find out."

"What? Come on, man, you have to tell us!"

"Sure. The boy with the secrets, the girl whose life you just wrecked further, and my district partner. Good enough for ya?" The Capitol is having trouble with figuring out that Laken is part of the alliance. Idiots! Utter idiots! Soon enough his buzzer rings, Octavius signs off, and the anthem plays while the tributes file out.

"You ready for this?" Luis says, catching up to me on our floor. "Tomorrow's a free day and then we're in the Games!"

"I trust our alliance. I mean, we didn't exactly base it on strength, did we? It's made up of people who trust each other not to kill them. We're strong, but that's a coincidence. Of course I'm not ready, nobody is! We're as ready as we can be, though."

"Sure." Luis is quiet for a moment, then he turns to me. "I never knew about your dad and boyfriend. I'm sorry."

"I miss my dad, but I never knew him. My mom was pregnant with me when he was killed. It makes me feel weird sometimes, but I miss Archer more. His dad died the same day mine did at the hands of the same guy. We had a lot of things in common. We were best friends, not just boyfriend and girlfriend. And then out of nowhere…" I can feel the anger bubbling up inside of me again, "he was gone. The Capitol tore away a huge part of my life. One of my friends actually told me, when we were in the Justice Building after the reaping, that he would try his hardest to try and find out what happened to Archer."

"I'm not sure what to say to that," Luis stutters. I smile as he continues, "I don't get along very well with my father and I've never had a girlfriend. My closest friend is a girl, but we're not dating or anything.

"Well, Twelve hasn't had a victor yet. I say we make this the year and one of us is going home." We stare at each other for a second and I can see my thoughts mirrored in his eyes. I want that victor to be me.

Luis won't kill me and I won't kill him, but we sure as anything won't die for the other.

"One full day until the arena," I say, "I guess we better get used to the idea of death fast." With that I retreat to my room and collapse on the bed asleep, leaving Luis standing stunned and alone in the other room.

* * *

***That was painful to write. I apologize to all of you.**

**One chapter until the arena... are you guys ready for this? The bloodbath tributes have been decided, the only thing standing between you guys and thet Games is one chapter- the last day. I bet you Capitol citizens are squirming in anticipation! Well, I won't be long- in fact, I'll go start writing right now! :D**

**But while you're waiting, tell me what you thought! :)**


	18. Calm Before the Storm

**The last pre-Games chapter! It's hardly been a month since I started writing. :) All you readers and reviewers are amazing!**

**If anyone is looking to submit tributes to a story, _Even when musics gone_ has one that needs a few more tributes! Go check out her profile!**

**R&R!**

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CAPITOL GIRL: TARPEIA CAESARION

"Mommy, I still have over fifty left! Can we give it to the tributes?" I pull on my mother's lovely bright skirt, pointing towards a lighted building with signs declaring 'SPONSOR HERE!' surrounding it. She sighs.

"Lucretius, do you have any leftover as well?" My younger brother nods. "Very well, then, children. We shall sponsor a tribute. Remember! Give all your money to one tribute, and make sure that tribute has a good chance of winning! We don't want that money wasted!" I nod excitedly and dash into the building. Lots of adults are standing around, talking to District people at different tables.

"Tari, where do we go?" Lucretius asks me quietly.

"We have to decide which tribute to give the money to!" I reply, "I liked that boy from Twelve, and he will win, I think! We should give the money to him!" I try to snatch my brother's money. He jerks it away from me.

"But he only got an eight in training! The girl from One got the best score!" He's right, really, but I don't want to let my little brother win a fight.

"Well, let's give it to Alec Ryans, then! He's ranked first and he got a good score in training, he would be a good bet!" Lucretius mopes at first, but I get him to agree. We search around for a bit and find a woman who is managing both District Nine tributes. She's got a fancy sign-up sheet for the girl, Cenia, but only a rough box for Alec's donations. You're supposed to write down how much you gave and dump the money in the bucket. I count up our change. Ninety-three. That could buy him something! Lucretius hops up and down with excitement as I write our names down.

I glance around proudly as I begin to write out the amount. One table is empty. Nobody chose to sponsor this tribute. I glance down at my numbers and scratch out the ninety-three. In its place I write fifty-three. Still enough for a few bandages or a packet of crackers.

With Lucretius in tow, I take the remaining money to the open stall. It's for Rowne Mercer, District Seven boy. He's my age.

"Ma'am? I'd like to sponsor Rowne." Forty should keep him from starving for a day or so.

DISTRICT EIGHT MALE: TYMAN GRUITER

They sicken me so much- why do I even want to be one of them? They're sitting there, acting like one big happy murderous family, while I did better than that failure from Two during the private sessions and just as well as the pretty boy from One. I'm the same age as most of them, anyway. I can't understand why they wouldn't want me to join. I stalk across my room to the bedside table. In just a few hours exactly I'll be showing them just how wrong they were.

My district partner is a bloodbath for sure. Simple and sweet, just like the wobbly-legged lower district tribute stereotype. She talks with her little allies whenever she gets a chance and worries about what will happen. She's just too weak to accept that she'll die. Has she seen the brutes she's facing? Apparently, she's blind, because she keeps asking if I really want to join them. I'm better than they are, you little snob, and I'll teach you that in two seconds once we get to the arena. Karlie has this theory that people have kindness inside, but they have had 'bad things happen which make them cruel'. Pfft. Look at me. How would I have gotten tough without experience?

I'll live, though. I'm not stupid like the Careers or my district partner and her alliance. I can kill, I can survive, and I can win the Games. I'm not a weakling. I'll show them all. But how? I can't just walk up to them and say that I'm worth it- they'll kill me. I have to prove myself. If they want to kill me, how do I do that without dying? I pace across the room some more.

I kill. That's the easiest way. I kill in the bloodbath and they'll be impressed. Usually not even all the Careers make it through with a kill. I can't kill Karlie, though, however much I want to get her out of the way. Then I'll die no matter what- killing your district partner only earns you a knife in the back. I don't know, if it looked like an accident… I go through the list of tributes, thinking of easy kills. The kids from Eleven, possibly. Maybe the girl from Three or the boy from Five. The boy from Seven is a guaranteed bloodbath, so maybe if I take him down?

Of course, it would be more impressive if I took down a bigger threat, like Alec or Luis. I don't want to risk something like that, though. I want my first kill to be easy so I can get in with the Careers, not difficult so I look like a fool. I sit on my bed and prepare for tomorrow. Peppy's advice runs through my head. He's the only one I told about my plan. _Target your kill. Take them down. Make sure the Career pack saw it happen_. I guess I'll kill whoever's closest to me when the Careers are watching. But what if that person is a Career? I'll die fast if I kill one of them, so if that's the case I'll just have to find the closest person who's not a Career. Even if it is Karlie.

A knock comes from the other side of my door. "Yeah, who is it?" An Avox boy meekly steps into my room with a steaming cup on a tray and a piece of paper. "What is that?" I say, motioning towards the cup. The boy obviously isn't used to being an Avox, since he tries to tell me. I smirk. I can smell the herbal tea. Snatching the cup off the tray with one hand, I point towards the door with my other. I don't want some random criminal in my room. "Go on, get outta here!"

The boy brushes his dark hair out of his eyes ad scans my room. His eyes land on the desk and he picks up a loose pen. On his paper he writes '_You should probably go to sleep'. _

"Too bad, Avox. I'm coming up with a plan for coming home."

_It won't work if you're too tired and stressed to stay awake in the arena_, he writes. I snarl and crumple up his paper.

"Get out! Nobody tells me what to do, least of all a good-for-nothing Avox!" The boy narrows his eyes but leaves with the empty tray.

You know, he has a point. I crack my neck and pop my shoulders before I lay down, and suddenly I'm filled with total calm. It seems that maybe sleep is the best idea right now. Anyway, the Games start fairly late in the morning. I can wake up and still have plenty of time to scheme.

DISTRICT FOUR FEMALE: CAMILLA THYRA

I look down four stories onto the neon-filled streets and the people swarming like ants. I don't know, are they even people? They don't act like it. For a human to treat another human the way that the Capitol treats the districts, they have to believe that their victim is not a human. I rest my chin on my hands, still looking out over the Capitol.

The clock beeps, telling me that it's now ten-thirty at night. In less than twelve hours I will be in the arena, trying to kill other kids. In precisely twelve hours, the bloodbath will be in full-blown adrenaline rush mode, or beginning to die down. I'm going to be in the thick of the melee. Killing.

To be honest, the thought doesn't scare me yet. All the mentors say it's different in the arena when you have blood on your hands, but I'm just not afraid of it. I feel totally emotionless on the subject. I don't want to think about it in depth right now, so I drag a blanket off my bed and shuffle out to the kitchen area. Maybe I can ask one of the Avoxes to make me a cup of that hot chocolate stuff.

"Couldn't sleep?"

"Well, actually, I… I was thinking… about…" Alex has caught me so off-guard that I can barely speak.

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks!" he says lightheartedly, raising a cup of something as if toasting me, "Do you want a mug of cocoa?" I nod, all the while gaping like a fish. He hands me a steaming cup and I wrap both hands around it subconsciously. "Feeling a little nervous?"

"I guess. Maybe. I just haven't gotten to sleep yet. You?"

"Anxiety. It's like stage fright... but with the whole 'win or die' sort of thing." We both manage weak smiles. "Hey, come see this thing I found!" Alex pulls me over to the television and presses a small button on the side of the console. Suddenly an interactive, live-time map of the tribute tower pops up. I leap back in surprise. I'm watching myself… watch myself… watch myself. That's just weird. "That's not all, we can adjust the floor!" He presses a few buttons and suddenly we're on floor 1, where Athena and Adrian are supposed to be sleeping.

"Hey, look, Athena's still up!" I get what possibly could be a very bad idea. "Do you want to go say hi to her?"

"Won't we get in trouble?"

"I doubt it. Our mentors are out trying to get more sponsors- every escort and mentor is going to be out there in the streets, not monitoring the tributes. And the Capitol citizens are all probably stoned by now." With my blanket still draped around me, I fling open the door and scramble down three flights of stairs with Alex right on my heels. I knock on the District One door softly.

"Who's there?" Athena says wearily.

"District Four," I call back. She opens the door with a lopsided grin on her face.

"Jeez, it's almost eleven? What are you guys doing down here?"

"Well, what are you doing still awake?" Alex counters.

"Nerves. I've been jumpy ever since the interviews. This thing… it just got real. We're going to be fighting for our lives tomorrow, and only one goes home." I bite my lip. I keep forgetting that five of my allies have to die. That means, if things go like I want them to, Athena and Alex will probably be dead in just a few weeks. And I could well be with them. Alex shifts uncomfortably and Athena and I know he's thinking similar thoughts.

"Hey, where's Adrian?" Alex looks around for his friend.

"Asleep less than half an hour after we got back."

"Well, this was probably one of the weirdest talks I've ever had," I say, making Athena smile, "See you in the morning?"

"Yeah, see you guys in a few hours. May the odds be ever in your favor!" I close the door behind me after we bid each other good-bye. As we return to our floor, Alex speaks up.

"Camilla?"

"Yeah?"

"If you make it home, can you tell my family I loved them?" So it seems that even the strongest tributes have deep-running fears.

"Only if you'll do the same for me." He nods. Then I hold out my hand and lapse into my childhood. "Pinky promise?" We wrap our fingers around each other.

"This is it, then. See you in the arena."

"See you there. Hope we make it far. For our families and our district." Alex nods and disappears into his room and I got to mine as well. Sleep is my friend now. I can see the television from my door- Athena retreats to her bedroom as well.

DISTRICT FIVE MALE: OCTAVIAN AMOROUS

I hope my little brother never volunteers for these accursed Hunger Games. Even if I do make it home, he will still want to take his turn. And Onyx, in complete and total truth, is bad enough already. The Games would break him so badly he'd become some sort of nutcase if he managed to get back. Two victors from the same family in an outlying district is nigh on impossible. Onyx is much too overconfident to have a chance. I could never take seeing my little brother die. Although if I die I may not have to deal with it.

What have I gotten myself into? I mean, I didn't get myself into this, but when Octavius got me talking… I'm just a little too compliant sometimes. My district won't want me to come home, not after some of the secrets I told to the entire world. And my alliance- what will they think of me once we're in the arena? They must know I can't be trusted anymore. I'm done for!

Not that I won't try to win. What a slap in the face it would be for Five to have their least favorite tribute of all time win the Hunger Games! I know with my large alliance I can get away from the bloodbath. Anyway, Luis and Sara are going to get supplies, and they told me and Laken to go with each other away from the bloodbath 'but where we can still find you'. I can do that. I can stick with the alliance for a week or so. It's just when other alliances start to break that I'll start worrying. Everyone gets tense then and the nights are filled with betrayal. I'll just have to wake up first and slit a few throats.

I shake my head and cough a few times. Sure, I know I tricked them into trusting me and letting me into their alliance, but killing them? I do a lot of stuff, but killing has never- and hopefully, will never- been one of them. These stupid Games screw everything up. I just want to go home, to my parents and Onyx and even Napoleon. I just don't want to go into that arena tomorrow.

I wonder what death is like? In the likely event of my death, I'd prefer it to be fast. But that's not usually the case in the Games. We're all kids, not trained executioners. I hope it doesn't hurt too badly. My brain starts giving me a list of ways that I could be killed. Really, sometimes I could swear that thing has a life of its own. Then it gives me a particularly gruesome image and I start feeling nauseous.

Go to sleep, Octavian, just go to sleep. Your stomach will settle, you need your rest… too late. I jump out of bed and barely make it to the toilet in time. Man, that Capitol food definitely tastes better going down than it does coming back up. I wash my mouth out to try and rid it of the bitter taste, but I choke of a gulp of water and start hacking a lung up or something.

"Octavian?" Delany is still awake; she pounds on the other side of the wall, "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," I gasp in between chokes, "I'm fine."

"Well, okay, then," she says uncertainly, "see you tomorrow."

"Yes, tomorrow," I reply bitterly. When I'm not coughing I can hear her footsteps trailing away from the shared wall. Brushing some of my ash-blond hair out of my eyes, I haul my frail body back into the bed. If I don't get killed by another tribute, I could end up dying thanks to my own systems. I groan. Why is my brain so twisted late at night? I glance at the clock.

Or early in the morning. I moan and squeeze my eyes shut. This is not right. I'm extremely tired and yet so nervous I can't even fall asleep. Down in the Capitol streets music still plays. Music the night before the Hunger Games, that's how bad these creatures are. Sara and Luis have it really lucky- they're up high where the sounds won't be as loud. Laken even has it easier than I do.

Well, sort of. Not after that pain-in-the-neck interviewer (I'm ashamed our names are so similar) told her she had a mental illness. I clench my teeth and try to close my eyes tighter.

I'm going into the Hunger Games tomorrow. I whisper as I fall asleep. "No, Delany. I'm not all right. I never will be."

DISTRICT TEN MALE: BLUE ANSTON

_Why are you trying to kill me?" Cordovan says._

_"I'm not," hisses the boy from Nine, "You're out to get me!" He raises his double-bladed staff and jabs at Cordovan with it. My brother sidesteps and uses his spear to slice open a gash on the boy's arm._

_"We don't have to kill each other!" Cordovan pleads, gasping for breath. The wild-eyed boy from Nine leers at him._

_"Then why are you attacking me?" My brother protests and tries to turn and run, but it's far too late. At age fourteen, he is one of the youngest competitors. The other boy is a year older, and burly from working in the fields. He shoves Cordovan to the ground and impales him on the end of his staff. But the cannon does not sound yet. The blade is buried in his stomach, not hitting any instant killing points. Cordovan gasps in agony and doubles over around the staff. The boy from Nine goes to slit his throat with a small knife, but an arrow suddenly is embedded in his right eye. Then his cannon sounds. The tributes from One, Two, and Four watch curiously as my brother dies. My brother dies. MY BROTHER ._

I awake in a cold sweat for the third time that night, after the same dream that I've been having for the past six years. I don't think anyone else really knows how painful it is, having the closest person to you die. Not when that person is your brother. Not when they were the most important thing in your life.

That's why I broke the staff, after all. My brother died on a staff just like it. I messed around with swords for about ten minutes during my private session and then I saw the staff. In a flash of memory I was there and with another moment's passing the weapon was broken on the ground. I think Benton and Kendra would have been impressed. I felt bad after the deed was done, since it was the staff that the boy from Eleven used. It was too late.

I go into my bathroom to wash the sweat from my face. As I shove a washcloth under the faucet I notice something I never saw before. Carved into the side of the sink are two words. Cordovan. Anston.

I stumble backwards in my shock. I never realized that my brother would have slept in the same rooms as I do, that he would have used the same stuff I have been using. I run my fingers over the name, tearing up. This is the last memory the Capitol has of my big brother.

The morning light shines through my window when I reemerge. Today is the day. I'm going in that arena and I'll either find out what Cordovan found out or I'll be alive and even more sorrowful than I am now. The games will begin in less than five hours. I am about to die.

Thinking of Cordovan's name, carved forever in the bathroom, I change my mind. I will come home and show them that they can't destroy my family again. In fact… I find a broken bedspring and take the jagged metal wire into the bathroom. B. Right under my brother's name. L. Forever. U. Whether I survive or die, Cordovan and I will be together. E. Right here in this bathroom.

As I carve my last name, I can't help but think that my brother must have shared some of my feelings about this morning. There's only one main difference about the outcome of the day. I will live. For both of us.

"Blue!" The escort raps on my door. "Blue, you have to get ready for the stylist to prepare you for the launch!" Prepare for preparation. How ironic. I pull on some simple cotton shorts and a gray t-shirt for the ride to the arena- the arena costume will be given to me at the Launch Pad. My stylist will meet me on the hovercraft. When I step out of my room, Janus confronts me. "Its maker sells it, but the one who buys it does not use it. The one who makes use of it does not know they are doing so. Do you know what it is?" I shake my head as he drags Ruby and I to the roof. "A coffin." We each go to our separate hovercrafts and begin to climb the ladder.

As I grab the first rungs, I'm frozen by a current. It lifts me into the machine, where a doctor injects a painful tracking device into my arm. My stylist, Evelina, is kind as we wait for the hovercraft to take off. She has a black package in her lap.

"So, today's the day, huh? I think you'll make it. You're strong and Cordovan will give you motivation."

"I hope." The hovercraft lifts into the air.

DISTRICT SEVEN FEMALE: LAKEN MARX

I can feel the dried tear streaks on my face from last night when they told me I basically have a different person inside me. How could they know? How could they do this to me? I don't feel any different. I just have times when I blank out, right? They gave me a little booklet on multiple personality disorder, and it says there that one develops MPD because they refused to pay attention to emotions resulting from a traumatic experience. I think watching Daddy kill my family members counts as traumatic, but right now the discovery is worse.

"Merry? They say you call yourself that. I'm not really sure you're there, though." I talk to myself and my stylist gives me a strange look. _I'm here. Don't worry. I'll protect you, Laken! But for now I'll take a backseat._ I still don't feel any different. I lay my head against the window and close my eyes to keep the tears from spilling out underneath.

"Laken! Laken!" The indigo man who is my stylist shakes me awake; I open my eyes to complete darkness. The windows are blacked out and the only light comes from the hatch. Indigo-man helps me onto the ladder and my heart starts to beat a little faster. The room we're directed to already has a nickname in the districts, unlike the newly coined 'Careers'.

We call it the Stockyard.

I take a hot shower- possibly my last one ever. _Not if I can help it! Oh, look, a unicorn! _The warm stream of water calms me a little bit and I climb out of the shower with a heart rate that's much healthier than before. Scrubbing the tearstains off my face along with the last remnants of makeup from the interviews, I take a deep breath. Stay calm. Don't lose yourself. _Yet_. Indigo Guy offers me the arena outfit now, an all-white affair that reminds me of the scrubs doctors wear in hospitals. The shoes are heavy, but they cushion my feet. "Good for climbing or running," says my stylist, "but the fabric of the main clothing isn't good for much anything but keeping you covered. I wouldn't expect harsh climates unless they want this to be over quickly." He helps me lace the shoes up and then hands me my token, which is a fossil of a leaf. I slip it into my pocket.

"Ten minutes until launch." The voice that comes over the intercom is robotic and harsh, sort of like the cold, flickering light of the Stockyard. I accept a glass of water, which I gulp down in a hurry, and a piece of plain toast, which I'm barely able to nibble on. I pace around the tiny room, rubbing my arms to ward away the goosebumps. _I don't feel the cold. I don't feel anything unless I take over. I can only do that if Laken's in great fear. I'd rather not feel the cold. I can feel her mind weakening as the seconds tick away. Soon, very soon… But for now I'm content to wait_.

"All tributes please step onto their metal discs," the robotic voice says. I shakily step forward onto the dreaded plate and face my stylist.

"Thank you," I whisper, "I never even bothered to learn your name, but thank you." His dark blue face splits in a skeletal smile. In the flickering dim lights, he looks like a dark skull. I shiver.

"One minute until launch," the voice crackles over the intercom system once again. The metal plate swoops and spins beneath my wobbling knees.

"My name is Rykul," he says smoothly. His voice has a calming effect on me that's even stronger than the warm water was. Or maybe the closer to launch we get the more extreme my emotions can swing. I bite my lip and give him a weak smile. Now I know.

Find my allies. Get away from the bloodbath. Protect myself and Octavian. After the cannons, find Sara and Luis. Don't die. Don't die. Don't die. That's the plan. I whisper it to myself over and over while the clock ticks down.

"Launch." The voice speaks once more and then a loud click shows that the intercom has been turned off. A glass cylinder slides up around me, cutting me off from everything except myself and the tube that will take me to the arena. It slides up, up, bringing my heart rate up with it. I'm thrown into pitch black for a few seconds and then the top of my vision begins to take on a lighter shade of gray. I squeeze my eyes shut for the burst of light that's inevitable.

And while she's got her eyes closed, I take over.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventeenth Annual Hunger Games… BEGIN!"

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**Italics during Laken's POV are Merry speaking from 'behind the scenes'. Confused? So am I, but apparently it can work like that.**

**You guys know what's coming. :) The GAMES! (And a new poll after the bloodbath, and hopefully a story cover.) May the odds be ever in your favor!**

**While you're waiting, tell me what you thought! There's a weird comment box for that now! :/**


	19. Chaos In Their Wake: Bloodbath Part 1

**So after having writer's block for about five days and then about three days writing, I'm back! and I decided to split the bloodbath into two parts. Each will be about 4000/5000 words (I don't think you guys want to read a 8000/10000 word bloodbath chapter). This is Part One. :)**

**There will be a new poll on my profile after part 2, so I'll remind you guys of that in the next chapter as well.**

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DISTRICT EIGHT FEMALE: KARLIE MILLS

The platform rises up ever so slowly, the light from the arena burning my eyes. Finally, when the plate stops moving, I still can't see; everything is obscured by pulsating dots in my vision. I'm sure there's a timer ticking down the seconds; we have a minute to stand here, after all. I can only hear the blood pounding in my ears. I don't want to be here, it still feels like a dream and I don't know what to do. I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, trying to calm myself down. It doesn't work and my eyes fly back open while my nostrils flare in terror. Sherry will be watching, I want to be home with her, both of us sitting in horror on the couch as somebody else is in my place. I can't die, this can't be real, it can't be happening!

I have to remember Bay and Skyford. Where are they? I take a deep breath and force myself to look around. The Cornucopia stands, majestic and golden, about fifty feet ahead of me. I can't see any tributes on the other side of that, though. To my left is Tyman and Alec Ryans is on my right. They have us arranged by district. So that means Bay and Skyford will be together on my right. I try to peer around Alec and find them, but I remember the bombs and steady myself on the metal plate.

The arena! I hadn't taken notice of it yet, but now it leaps out at me dizzyingly. Light filters in through barred windows, but I can't see ground outside the openings. Three doors are visible in my line of sight, one of them helpfully marked with a picture of stairs. A multi-level building. I bite my lip in confusion. Usually the arena is an outdoor area. Maybe there's a way out? I twist around carefully but in place of exit doors there is just a huge window. I still can't see any sort of terrain- it looks like the bars on the windows are flat and tilted so we can't look down.

I turn my attention back to the Cornucopia and the flat white walls that hold twenty-four of us in. Behind the golden horn is a sign.

'THE SEVENTEENTH ANNUAL HUNGER GAMES' the top reads. It has a list of six things. 'FLOOR ONE: SURGERY'. It sounds like a hospital. 'FLOOR TWO: LOBBY AND CORNUCOPIA'. Or maybe some sort of other surgery? No hospital in Eight looks so clean as this one. According to the sign, floors Three and Four are wards and floor 5 is something called 'rubber rooms'. Floor 6, apparently the top floor, is a laboratory.

It's a hospital. A Capitol hospital. How ironic that we'll be expected to die in a place where people are brought to live. I guess Capitol hospitals are different, though, since they do a whole bunch of cosmetic surgery. District hospitals are much more… humane. The other tributes are preparing to run- either to the Cornucopia or away from it. I don't know where I should go.

I make the mistake of looking at the Cornucopia. It's heaped to the rim with food and weapons and other supplies- all stuff that could help Bay and Skyford and me survive. A long knife almost identical to the one I tried to use sits right on top, taunting me. I'm not weak. I can run in and get stuff!

That's exactly what they want me to think, isn't it? That I can survive. They want me to get in there and die a horrible death. But if I don't get supplies we'll all die terrible deaths! Skyford and Bay plan to get away and I was planning to run away this morning. It's all so perfect, though. Just waiting for me to take it back to my allies! I shuffle my feet very carefully to face the Cornucopia. On either side of me I can see Alec and Tyman doing the same.

We have about twenty seconds left before chaos breaks out. I can watch Bay and Skyford as I run to see where they go, so I can find them later on. I won't lose my allies or my life! Someone laughs not too far to my left; it's a girl's voice. She sounds like she's gone mad. Judging by the insanity, I'll guess that it's Laken Marx laughing. Or Merry.

Ten. Time is ticking slowly away, for everyone. Even the victor of these Games. I don't know if I'll live- I hope I do, but I don't really have a good chance- but in the event of my death, I hope that the victor deserves to win. Nine. I hope they dream about the Games forever and the scars of the arena never leave them. I hope they cry every night about the kids they killed. I just want the victor to deserve life. Eight.

Bay and Skyford will run from the bloodbath, but I can squeeze in and get supplies. I can run, even if I got a measly two in training. I didn't want to give the Gamemakers a show. I'm not that cooperative with my murderers. Seven. No. I can't think like that. If I think cruel thoughts now I could die angry and I don't want to die with a hardened heart. It's not their fault I'm here. It was pure random bad chance. Six.

The semicircle of tributes curves around to where I can almost see Bay, and the tributes from Twelve and One are in sight. I can see Gray Tanner and Flavia Baxter too- Alec is just so tall I can't see around him to my allies.

Five. It's almost time to run.

Four. I can get out of there in time.

Three. Just have to grab that bag sitting there on the ground.

Two. I crouch a little lower, the meager muscles in my legs burning.

One.

DISTRICT NINE MALE: ALEC RYANS

The gong goes off and everyone scatters. The adrenaline rushing through me affects me the same way as one bottle of liquor and I'm imbued with a courage that only a drunkard can ever know. Cenia hangs back when I charge forward, covering yards with my strides. Already a tide of tributes rolls up to the golden Cornucopia and I get the feeling that I'm in a gang fight instead of a fight for my life.

Eh, same thing.

The Careers are swarming the dazzling horn, their white scrubs making them appear totally obvious. I guess the Gamemakers wanted us to stick out again stuff- except the walls. We all match the walls. The stripes on our sleeves are different colors, though. Cenia and I have a weird pink stripe, but no districts match. The kids from One have red and the turquoise stripes identify District Four.

The boy from Four tosses weapons to his stuck-up allies and I swear loudly. They're already armed and now they spread out, looking for victims. A few kids are making their way to the Cornucopia, but the room is smaller than the start of the arena normally is and we jostle for a way to the supplies. I lash out at the girl from Twelve as she darts for a slingshot and a bag of sling stones, but I miss and she scrambles away. Where's her district partner? He didn't run away.

I am suddenly alone, no longer surrounded by frightened children. My muscles tighten just like when I'm about to face a big rival on the streets. I bare my teeth when I see the boy from Two, Gray. It's like the tributes parted like water to give us space to fight. Except Gray has a sword and I don't have anything.

I've fought as the underdog before, even when my opponent had a switchblade or a busted bottle. Or even a Taser, since Peacekeepers usually have one of those on them. And I've lived, haven't I? The boy narrows his eyes, but there's no hiding his fear. I take a step forward; he hesitates but does the same.

"Go ahead. Kill me. You wouldn't be able to," I taunt, following my words with some choice curses. I know how to prod people into a fight, even when I'm drunk. The screeches of battle swirl around us. Gray steps up and raises his sword.

"You… you've made the wrong choice, Ryans," he says in a low voice, "I've trained for this my whole life!"

"So? You won't live. You have no chance, you little idiot." I can almost see his ego shattering; he charges me. I simply sidestep the blow and kick him in the wrist as he flies by. Something in his hand cracks and he drops his blade. Gasping in pain, he faces me. A few of the fingers on his left hand hang at unnatural angles, but he forces his hand into a fist and brandishes his retrieved sword with his right hand. It's my turn to take a shot and I mow him down, sending the sword flying and punching him in the face with my unhurt hands. He's weaker than I thought he was, and he got a lower score than I did. His nose cracks and blood flies from his mouth.

I grab his sword and knock him on the temple hard enough to kill. He slumps down and I kick his unconscious body to the side. Only time will tell if he'll survive and I don't care enough to finish the job. I don't see any more Careers coming to attack me, but there are bodies falling now. I swipe two packs bulging with supplies, one a tan drawstring bag and the other a white backpack. They'll be filled with food and maybe bandages. Lastly I take a scythe and a javelin; then I decide to go before the Careers see me again. If they realize I knocked out one of them they'll all be on my tail and I don't want to bother fighting them yet.

I shove the boy from Six aside- he falls to the ground but scrambles up quickly- and step over Gray on my way out. He's twitching, which could be very good or very bad. I see Cenia peering around a door on the opposite side of the room and begin to wade through the mess again, slapping a few kids out of my way. I'm the tallest one here, by a good three inches on Alex Isis and at least five on everyone else. I'm visible. Everyone pushes around me, but none attack me. I smirk. The Careers are engaged in combat, all of them.

A scream echoes through the air and I know someone saw a friend die. Going towards Cenia, I see the boy from Ten swerve up the stairs past my ally and then I fall suddenly. Somebody moves beneath me and swear at them. I tripped over some fool who was slashed up and left for dead, but he's obviously not hurt too badly. Those Career idiots out there think killing someone is this easy. I haul myself up and grab the kid by the back of his or her scrubs. It's the little boy from Seven. He's got a light cut across his throat, but he's still panicking now that I've got him up in the air.

"You think you can sit there and trip me? You're being a hazard to more than just yourself!" I let loose a long string of profanities. "I'll teach you to lay there feeling sorry for yourself! This is what that earns you!" I drop him, but before he crumples again to the ground I grab his head and jerk his neck around sharply. A crack reaches my ears and the boy slumps with glazed-over eyes, his mouth open in a tiny, perfect 'O'. A painless death with no regret.

DISTRICT TWO FEMALE: FLAVIA BAXTER

I run and jump onto the girl's back, a knife in each hand. "Hello, pretty girl!" I hiss into the taller tribute's ear, "Want to play a game?" She screams and collapses under my weight. "It's called Death By A Thousand Cuts!" She whimpers.

"Please, no!" She struggles to roll over and face me, "My ally ran into this fight! I don't want to fight you! I don't want to die!" She fights her way around and I see her face.

"Well, Miss Priss, I have a concussion from back home and I'm not big on getting another one. So I don't want to fight. I want to have some fun! Your ally was the crazy from Six, so you don't have to worry about her. One of us will finish her off." I twirl a knife in one hand. Fray died in these Games, Colton survived, and I'll live too. I'll win for my little brother. The blade descends on her neck. "Careful, Miss Priss, wouldn't want to pierce you through too soon!" She stops squirming as my blade touches her skin. They're equally cold. Ice cold.

"Please no, please don't," she whispers, tears forming in her dark eyes. She was the one saying she wasn't poor enough to be in the Games during training. If it hadn't been for Colton I would have been in poverty, maybe even on the streets. And she's district partner to Blue Anston. Imagine if I kill both of Ten's tributes- amazing. I wet my lips with my tongue and slice a line from the corner of her mouth to her ear, gashing her cheek wide open. Her tears leak into the oozing wound and she gives a little involuntary gasp of pain.

"That's number one!" I say sweetly. Fray will meet this girl soon, wherever you go after death. I push my other knife into her right wrist, avoiding the major veins. She cries out shamelessly now, giving up her rich-girl act. She's just another tribute. Just another dead child in the arena. Her screams are just another whisper of pain in this arena. I see Camilla cut down a tribute just ahead of me. Ruby whimpers as I twist the knife in her arm, tearing the injury wider open. The blood stains her white outfit and red tendrils snake over the fabric. It's like canvas.

Next I draw a blade over her stomach, leaving a deep cut across her belly. She tries to curl up but I kick her back into her prone position. "We're not done yet, girlie! This is the message to District Ten for killing my baby brother two years ago!"

"Stop it!" another voice cries. "Stop hurting her, she doesn't deserve it!" I snap my head up to look at the intruder. The little girl from Eight. I shove Ruby to the side and she crawls away, gushing blood.

"So I guess you want some then?" The girl takes a step backwards, but even with my old concussion I'm swifter than her. Soon I've grabbed her by her ponytail and she's flailing on the ground. I drop onto her stomach with my knees, driving the air out of her. "You'll get some for that. You'll regret this before you die- you'll regret it and be begging for death before I let you die!" She screams long and loud- music to my ears- as I pierce her eye. A little fountain of blood and eye liquid squirts out and Karlie's voice cuts off with the agony she must be feeling.

I grab her hand and squeeze the fingers, getting a feel for where the bones are. Karlie wriggles to no avail. When I smash her hand on the ground and pound on it with the flat of my knife, the bones crush and she is able to cry out again with the new wave of pain.

"Please, please make it stop…" her voice sounds tiny, like a child just learning to speak. I remember when Fray started talking.

"You want your hand to stop hurting? All right. It won't hurt anymore." I imitate her sniveling whines and then lay my longer knife against her wrist. The serrated edge slices through flesh and grates against her bone for a few seconds before fully severing the hand. She finally passes out from the pain. With her head lolling to the side, the blood from her ruined eye coats her entire face and neck. "Oh, no, I can't have you falling asleep on me, now can I?" I scrape a long strip of skin from her side and the new pain wakes her back up nicely.

Karlie's teeth are bared in a grimace as she realizes that she's still here with me. I drive my knee into her sternum a bit deeper and tears begin to fall from her remaining eye.

"Yeah, it hurts. Deal with it, because you're dying like a two-year-old." I pull my knees out of her stomach and stab her in the gut. It's a rhythm that I've gotten used to in training- in, out, in, out. Silver knife, red knife, redder knife. I laugh with glee as she screams and twists under the blade.

"FLAVIA!" Somebody pushes me over and I topple onto Karlie, driving my knife almost entirely through her torso. It's our fearless leader, Athena.

"What do you want? Don't you see I'm fighting here?" I snarl at the older, bigger girl.

"You're NOT fighting! You're torturing! She's not even armed, all she had was a tiny pack. And you're cutting her up for fun! We're supposed to be dealing out swift deaths, not dragging out the suffering. This is the bloodbath, not the parts later in the Games where we have time to torture."

"This is my kill."

"She looks like your toy, with the fun you seem to be having." Athena's holding a sword, which she brandishes at me. I laugh.

"Hah! You, a home-trained girl, are bothering to point your little toothpick at me? You wouldn't dare kill your ally, _Leader_." I sneer at her and she hefts her weapon a little higher in the air.

"I don't allow torture during the bloodbath." She brings the sword down and Karlie is silenced.

She won't survive my wrath.

DISTRICT ELEVEN MALE: SKYFORD AL'RAND

I charge towards the door with Bay, taking the stairs two at a time. "Come on, Skyford! We can't stop! Why did you even try to run towards the bloodbath? We said we weren't going to do that, and yet you did!"

Panting for breath, I gasp out my haggard reply. "We need supplies, and I can't just leave all that stuff sitting there! I've been without stuff my entire life, this was my chance to make sure we wouldn't have to go empty- handed."

Bay forces a small smile as we run. Karlie must be somewhere. "It's all right. We're safe now."

"AND we got some supplies." I hold up a navy backpack. "Hey, look- we've officially gotten to the next floor!" I pull open a heavy white door and slip through the opening. No more stairs for me right now! Bay follows me more cautiously onto the floor.

"Floor three- hospital wards," she murmurs, quoting the sign that was hanging behind the Cornucopia. I set down our pack and look around. There's a white hallway lit by stark electrical lights and six doors, one of which is right behind us and leads to the stairwell. There are three doors on each side of the hallway. "Should we check it out?"

"Yeah!" I dash ahead and yank open the door directly across from us. It's a hospital room, sort of reminiscent of the ones that they put us in for the prep teams and stylists to work on us. But not a surgery room, just a classic ward room. It's really a cross between the prep rooms and my bedroom at the orphanage.

"Well, at least it's not somewhere in the wilderness," Bay says weakly. Suddenly, a scream echoes from the floor below us. A loud scream. Very loud. And very, very familiar.

"KARLIE!" both of us cry and, before Bay can even react, I'm out the door and dashing back down the stairs to the main floor. I almost trip over our pack on the way down the stairs on my way back to the bloodbath.

I manage to stop myself before I slide into the open, but I can still see the raging melee. It's a bloody mess and nobody is free from blood on their scrubs. I can't help but retch in disgust as I see bodies scattered on the ground. And they're being kicked, stepped on, beaten. My eyes fill with tears.

And then I see the worst sight of all. Flavia Baxter and Athena Monroe are arguing halfway across the floor, a corpse with strawberry-blond hair, a bloody face, and a lopped-off hand lying between them. My ally. Karlie is dead.

"NO!" I scream, charging across the floor. I can hear the two older girls arguing.

"She was my kill!" Flavia shoves Athena into the Cornucopia.

"You were toying with her! That's not your job!"

"YOU LEAVE ME AND MY KILLING ALONE! NOW SHE'LL BE CREDITED TO YOU!"

"IT'S BETTER THAN BEING CUT TO BITS BY YOU!"

"WATCH YOUR BACK, ATHENA MONROE!"

"I COULD TAKE YOU ANY DAY, BAXTER!" They glare at each other and storm away into the midst of the tributes. I run to Karlie along the outside of the fight; when I reach her I see the full extent of the damage Flavia has done and I'm terrified more than I thought it possible to be scared.

"Karlie, Karlie, you can't be dead, you're not dead, please don't die, come back, Karlie! Please, don't leave!" I'm sobbing, cradling the older girl's head in my lap. I've heard that people are supposed to look peaceful in death, but Karlie looks like she just died afraid. I bend over her, our foreheads touching. "I'm so sorry, Karlie! You shouldn't be dead! No! This isn't right!"

"Mourning isn't the smartest thing in the bloodbath, boy," a female voice enters my thoughts. I sniff, wipe my nose on the orange stripe on my scrubs, and turn around in just enough time to see Camilla Thyra standing right behind me with a trident. "You know what it does? It makes you a target." I bite my lip and squeeze my eyes shut, letting the tears prick behind my eyelids.

"I'm sorry, Tholian," I whisper, grabbing the notebook in my pocket with bloody fingers as she positions her weapon. It moves at such a speed that I don't even feel it enter my belly, I just see three prongs sprouting from my torso.

And then the pain comes. Not when Camilla pierces me with her trident, but when she rips it out. The pain that tears through me threatens to sweep me all the way back to District Eleven and to break my very soul into fragments. Is it possible for a killer to have a soul? I know I have mine still. I know it's there because it's trying to escape my body now, trying to keep from going mad. The edges of my vision turn black and hazy, pulsating with my heartbeat and hurting my head with the blood-red that frames that black. It's soft, like a pillow of some sort. Until Camilla pushes the points of her weapon through my heart and the black turns brittle and deep. It starts to overwhelm me and I go blind with pain. I can't move, can't breathe, all thirteen years of my life are ebbing away in less than a minute. The last thing I see is Camilla turning away from my body, trying to hide a tear that's running down her face. Then my soul does break free and I don't see anymore, don't feel anything else, and I will no longer exist.

I hope Bay will be all right without us.

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**So right now we have 3 deaths, and there will be more. After the next chapter I will have 'obituaries' for the dead bloodbath tributes and current standings for the rest. Again, there will be a new poll after the bloodbath, so be thinking about who you want to win!**

**Authors who have had their tributes killed: thank you so much for letting me have your creations. It was wonderful working with you and them, and I hope you will remain to see how these Games turn out. :) I love you all.**

**Tell me what you thought!**


	20. Welcome to the Machine: Bloodbath Part 2

**Three down... more to go. The bloodbath is still going strong. R&R!**

**Don't forget to vote on the new poll! :)**

* * *

DISTRICT ONE MALE: ADRIAN RAIN

There are bodies on the ground now. I see Gray out there, but I also saw Alec hit him and I don't think he bashed his skull in or anything. I lean casually against the Cornucopia with my bow and watch for any tributes. The girls are all engaged in combat and I'm just here waiting for someone to blunder into my path. Looking for a fight can mean death. I want to get a kill, and an easy one. I want to prove those girls wrong.

I can see someone edging towards me from the back of the Cornucopia. The girl from Five, Delany Lavis, I think. She has a long dagger, which is serrated and crooked. It looks painful.

Wait. How did she get to our supplies? There's Alex, shoving the girl from Twelve onto the ground. Ah, yes- Gray's unconscious and possibly dead on the ground there. I'm the only one who has noticed her up here, and I swing around into her path.

"Where do you think you're going?" She skids to a halt, a silvery pack falling from her shoulders in the process. The stripes on her white arena outfit are a greenish-yellow. Chartreuse, maybe? I grin as she scrabbles for a handhold on the Cornucopia and tries to haul herself up on top to evade me. It doesn't work- I simply pull her off of the golden horn and throw her onto the ground. She narrows her eyes at me and grits her teeth like she's waiting for something. My arrow through her heart.

"Give me the weapon and the pack and I'll make your death a fast one." Delany shakes her head, but remains silent. "All right, I have time to spare." I was sort of expecting her to take the bait on that so I could decapitate her and look for others. I aim my bow. At close range like this, wherever I shoot, the arrow will go all the way through. Delany tenses up her shoulders like she's bracing herself and I roll my eyes. This is boring and I want to get back to the battle; I'll finish her quickly. My arrow settles in the groove, pointing right at her exposed throat.

It flies towards her but she's gone. She rolled to the side, using her tensed-up muscles to propel herself. She's smarter than I thought! The arrow clatters across the floor uselessly.

"Fine. I WILL do this the hard way," I say to myself through clenched teeth. I take aim again, but once more the girl has disappeared. She's running off into the crowd and I fire the arrow after her. She's only fifteen feet away, though, and I can hear the crack as it goes through her leg and breaks a bone. I smile grimly. She won't last long with an injury like that, but who knows? I might kill her again in a few days.

I turn back to the battle to find Tyman Gruiter, idiot-at-large, standing where I was a few minutes ago. Our eyes meet and he grins, a gesture full of cruelty. He's still totally serious and I can't look at him without being horrified. He's covered in blood. I'll have to remember that he tied my training score.

With one swift motion he holds up another tribute, a girl who's sputtering blood from the wound on her cheek that's oozing into her mouth. She's almost unconscious from blood loss. Tyman was crazy enough to capture her.

He holds up a spear in one hand and does a funny little bow in my direction. He wants me to see this.

And he stabs the girl through the throat. Her eyes, before half-closed, are now dead. She's gone.

What a sick animal! He killed the girl in front of me! And now… he has the nerve to toss her dead body at my feet like a pet cat showing a dead mouse to its owner. It's the girl from Three.

"Have you gotten a kill yet, District One?" he growls. I stare at him, not dignifying his question with a response. "No? Well, I have. How 'bout you Careers let me in? Have I proved my worth yet? I'm worth more than YOU!" I clench my teeth to keep from swearing my head off at him.

"No. You'll never be one of us. We kill, but we don't kill only to show off. We kill to win."

"No! I'm worth it! I'm stronger than any of you! Any!" He charges me with his spear, but I knock aside his blow with the side of my bow- there are plenty of others if this one gets broken- and trip him so he lands on top of the girl he killed.

"No. You're not. Get lost or get dead. Preferably both."

"If I kill you they'll let me it!" I sigh and watch as the fury rages behind his eyes. I take two arrows from my quiver without him noticing and nock one of them. He struggles to his feet and roars in anger. He swings at me with his spear, knocking into my ankle with his spear and sweeping me off my feet. Shooting as I fall, I hit the ground hard and a sharp pain spreads in my ribs. My arrow lodges itself in Tyman's spear arm- he howls and drops his spear. He rips out the arrow, but I've already sent another straight for his heart. It punches through his flesh and he collapses, gurgling blood in the back of his throat.

I smirk. Now I've got a kill. "What do you think of that, Tyman? Weak enough for you or do you still want to fight me?" I yank my arrow from his chest, still wearing a grim smile. We may have tied in training- although Gray did worse- but in the end I wasn't as hotheaded as normal and it saved my life.

"What do you think of that, Tyman?"

DISTRICT TWELVE FEMALE: SARA ROSS

I feel like I can't do anything back here, hiding inside the Cornucopia amidst heaps of food and weapons. I was on the very end of the tribute line and nobody saw me come up and around this golden horn. They never looked behind the supplies, although the Careers were just grabbing weapons. The boy from Six might have seen me, though, while he was trying to stay out of Alex Isis's line of vision. Even if this place is relatively safe, my heart beats like a pickaxe in the mines. Someone could find me at any second, but my slingshot is primed and ready to fire. They won't exactly last long if they find me, and nobody can sneak up behind me. No, I'm worried for Luis. I can see him down there, fighting his way towards me in the crowd. I got an axe to him right off the bat; nobody seemed to care that it came right out of thin air.

I wonder if my father ever felt like this when he was in battle with his squad. I'm certainly in battle, and I have a quasi-squad in my alliance.

"Hey, Athena!" A voice sounds almost right next to my head and for a second I think I'm dead. I freeze where I am and only move my eyes to see the speaker. The boy from One waves a sword in the air; the tall, dark-skinned girl shouts and sticks her hand up. "You need backup?" Adrian shouts towards her. Can he hear me? Does he see me? Will he murder me like the Capitol murdered my father and Archer?

"No, but toss me that sword!" The younger boy obliges and the weapon goes flying hilt over tip to the Career girl. I bite my lip with worry as he stands in front of me. I can't see Luis when Adrian's right there and people will notice if I kill him! I step back into the golden horn a little further.

"Where do you think you're going?" he hisses; I freeze. How did he see me, he isn't even facing me! Then he runs off to the side and I catch a glimpse of the girl from Five. That only offers me a tiny bit of relief- my district partner is out there in the fray, possibly dead or dying!

"C'mon, Luis, where are you?" I whisper to myself. We need to get out of here soon and he's still fighting his way to me. We agreed that we'd both get supplies before we left the Cornucopia. Wait, there he is, near the prone body of the boy from Eleven. As I grab two packs and sling them over my shoulders I keep an eye on my district partner. If he dies… I don't even want to think about it.

Out of nowhere, a tiny, mousy-haired figure leaps onto Luis's back with a wicked knife. "YOU ARE NOT CUTE!" Lucia Greene cries out, her shrill voice carrying across the arena floor to me. My breath catches in my throat, but then I wince at my slight idiocy. Luis is eighteen and Lucia is twelve. He can escape her without even hurting her! What was I thinking?

But Luis is at a slight disadvantage. The girl is on his back where it's hard for him to reach, and the shock of being jumped on forced him to drop his axe. And Lucia is flailing around with her knife. Lines of blood appear on my district partner's white shirt and trail into the black stripes on his sleeves. I can barely breath, let alone go to help him. My slingshot hangs limp in my hand, still armed with its stone.

"Sara! HELP M- AAUUGHH!" Luis hollers in pain as Lucia drives the knife between his shoulder blades. He collapses to the ground still moving. Lucia crawls off his back and drops her knife as he rolls over, instead attacking his face with her nails.

"YOU ARE NOT CUTE!" Wait- my slingshot! I scramble out from the Cornucopia and swing the sling around my head three times. The small stone takes flight and _ping_s into the ground half a foot from Luis and Lucia.

Calm down, Sara, just calm down. How am I supposed to calm down when I'm at the freaking Cornucopia bloodbath with tributes surrounding me and my district partner dead or seriously injured? Just calm down. My sub-conscience has sounded like Archer for years now, which is really ironic since he can be more reckless than I am. I drop another stone into the slingshot, aim carefully, and swing.

Lucia rolls backward off Luis's body, leaving his face scratched and a pool of blood forming underneath him. I hike the packs up on my back and run to him. The twelve-year-old attacker doesn't appear to have any injuries at first sight, but then I see that her eye is gone- I hit her right in the eye. She's dead. Dead on contact. The world dips for a moment, but Luis's groans bring me back to my senses.

"Sara… thanks…"

"Shouldn't you be dead right now? There's a very scary pool of blood underneath you." He struggles to a sitting position and tries to brush off the wounds, but his grimace tells the real story.

"She's not that strong. It didn't hit anything important."

"Well then get up!" I pull him to his feet and he takes off towards the Cornucopia, grabbing two more packs and two axes. Blood still trickles from his back- if we don't have bandages I don't know what we're gonna do for Luis. If we do, Laken can patch him up.

He charges back towards me and grabs my arm, pulling me towards the door. "I saw Laken and Octavian go this way, they should be nearby," he says gruffly. We reach the staircase just as a screech rings out. I turn my head and see Tyman fall to the ground.

"Let's get out of here," I agree breathlessly.

DISTRICT TEN FEMALE: RUBY ELIS

Karlie lies on the ground, dead as anything. She died for me. For trying to help me escape. I mean, I think it should be obligatory for poor people, but my heart breaks as she lies in front of me, dead. Flavia argues with Athena for a few minutes and then goes off into the mess.

Everything hurts. I can feel the cuts, etched into my skin like lines on paper or memories into a mind. I slump on the doorframe to the stairs, no longer able to drag myself any further from death.

The boy from Eleven, who was one of Karlie's allies, runs to her side and begins to mourn her, but then the girl from Four attacks and the allies lie dead together, leaving the boy's district partner to fend for herself. I don't see her anywhere. I close my eyes; I don't know whether or not I want Camilla Thyra to notice me. I don't want to hurt anymore, but I don't want to die yet. I bit my lip as she leaps back into combat. I'm doomed to live for another few minutes at least.

Maybe I still have a chance! I'm beautiful, so sponsors would want to give me things. These wounds aren't that bad, really! I brush my fingers against my ruined cheek, exploring the bloody gash. It's long, but not too deep. It hurts to touch and I can't comfortably move my mouth, but it's not fatal. It's a good thing I paid attention at the first-aid station. Next I probe my wrist, which is worse. It's deep and still oozing blood; it'll disable that hand for a day or so while it starts to heal. I can make it for a day, especially with all my sponsors.

I peel my arms away from my torso, the last cut Flavia made. It doesn't hurt too badly, so it should be fine with just a bandage.

The pain comes as I move my arms from its length. The open wound stretches from one side of my stomach to the other, and it's at least twice as deep as the already-deep wrist wound. I use my tunic to dab at it, trying to see exactly how bad it is.

Why is it not showing the area underneath? I just keep soaking up more and more blood!

When I realize the truth, I almost retch- but that would hurt the wound more to move my torso that quickly. Flavia sliced all the way through to my guts, and I've been trying to clean them off. Wounds like that need stitches and Capitol attention- in Ten, it's hard to recover even if you just get gored by one of the cattle. The discovery forces the pain to worsen and I lean my head back against the wall. I don't need to worry about my wrist healing now. I'll bleed to death before the day is out.

I'm not… freaking out. Whenever I tried to think about death in the Capitol or at home I would shy away from the subject in fright. Now I'm faced with it and I'm not sad. I'm so numbed to emotion that I'm being ruled by my pain- just my pain. I read once that the only way a person can kill or enslave another person is because they dehumanized their victim in their mind. I'm so detached I've dehumanized myself. Am I starting to die already? The world is starting to look fuzzy. Is that my imagination or the fatal wound?

I'm too weak to stand back up. Trying to force myself to my feet results in keeling myself over to the side. The edges of my vision throb with my heartbeat. A tiny girl falls away from Luis Thomsen, her body crumpling unnaturally in death. Lucia doesn't need me anymore. Nobody needs me anymore. My mother will get along fine with her friends, Chandler will marry Adeline, Clarisse will find new friends, and my father won't care. He never came to see me in Ten, so why would he care if I died in the Hunger Games? I guess being rich is a bad thing sometimes. When you disappear people have enough stuff to forget you. If you're poor people won't forget, because they have nothing else to bury themselves in.

I've tipped over onto a potted plant- real, by the feel of the leaves. In my home we have real plants, too. I manage to turn my eyes to the greenery as the blood from my wrist leaks out onto the soil. Drip, drip, drip. The dark earth turns black and wet under my nourishment. When my arm goes limp my fingertips brush the dirt over the lip of the pot and I swirl the bloody mud around with my fingers. It's cool soil, relaxing to play with.

I wonder if Father will even really notice my death. He'll know I'm dead, it's impossible not to know, but I can't help but consider the possibility that he would have come to see me if I lived. Would he come back? I wasn't ever good enough for him; that has to be the reason he left in the first place. I was never good enough, and now I never will be.

A figure emerges from the battle and strides towards me with a knife in hand. "Never try to run away from me, Miss Priss. I'll always find you." Flavia yanks me upright by my hair; I don't have the strength to protest. When she slits my throat, the only thing I'm aware of is the warm sticky liquid running down my neck. My vision blanks out. I can't think any new thoughts. I don't know where I am anymore.

I'm Ruby Elis. I am not good enough.

I am not good enough.

I am not good…

I am not…

I am…

I-

DISTRICT THREE MALE: NEWT HILLEN

Chandler flies past me on the staircase, eyes wild and breathing rapid. "Come on!" he gasps, grabbing my forearm and dragging me along behind him. He has a pack on his back, a dark red one that's bulging with stuff. "We have to get out of here!" We scramble up the flight of steps, but we don't turn onto floor 3. We keep going.

"Where were you? We had a deal to both leave the bloodbath! I know you saw me point towards the door, Chandler," I say, sort of breathless. He's racing up the steps at a breakneck pace. A horrible thought crosses my mind. "Chandler, is someone following us?" He shakes his head and lunges up the last few steps to floor 4, where he slams the door open and we duck into the white hallway. The flickering electrical lights add an eerie feeling to the setup. It's the arena, what do I expect? My neighborhood? Chandler's got his hands on his knees gasping for air beside me; I stand up and turn to him curiously.

"So where were you, and why did you make me run so fast getting up here?" He takes a deep breath and stands up straight again, albeit shakily.

"Let's find a hiding place. Then I'll explain. I was at the Cornucopia." I start to open my mouth, but I decide to let the younger boy breathe for a minute or two and just roll my eyes. We walk down the stark hallway quietly, slowly opening each door to see if we're sharing our floor with anyone else.

"There's nobody here," I proclaim after a few minutes. We slip into the room adjacent to the staircase, so it might be easier to hear footsteps coming. "So, now will you tell me why you broke plan and ran to the Cornucopia?"

"We needed supplies," he says simply. Okay, well, he's left the dreaded place now and he didn't die. I don't see any logical reason to keep bugging him about it. Not that I don't have any more questions.

"Why did you run so freaking fast up those stairs? It was like you'd seen a ghost!" Chandler's eyes immediately dilate a little bit and focus on something over my shoulder. He bites his lip and swallows a few times before he even opens his mouth to answer.

After hesitating a second or so, he speaks. "They… they died. Kids my age, kids younger than me, kids older than me… they all were dying. I couldn't believe it. I saw so many terrible things down there… I don't even know what I saw. Bodies, blood. They had their eyes open, Newt! They were staring at me! They were all dead!" I cringe. He's freaking out. I'm not sure what to do. I mean, this thirteen-year-old saw things nobody should ever be exposed to. I don't understand, either.

"But you're alive. And they're not here. You'll be all right, Chandler," I say weakly. Man, that sounds cheesy. I hate being clueless. My ally sits down on one of the gurneys in the room and covers his face with his hands; for a second I think he's crying. I would really freak if he was crying. I have no idea how to deal with a crying person. But he holds himself together and looks back up.

"Yeah. We'll have to be all right." He's visibly shaking, although the room is a comfortable temperature. He's in slight shock.

"Hey, Chandler?"

"Yeah?"

"I've got something that will take your mind off what you saw." He shifts towards me.

"Please share." His mock formality makes me grin.

"It's sort of a riddle."

"Is it a math riddle? We're both good at math." I can barely contain a smile.

"No, it's a language riddle." My ally seems a little crestfallen. "Don't worry, we're both intelligent."

"Okay then, go on."

"What's the opposite of heavy?"

"Light."

"And what's the opposite of dark?"

"Um… light… Are you sure this is a riddle, Newt?"

"Well, not really a riddle. More of an amusing thing." I'm grinning now. "So what's the opposite of light?"

"Dark!" Chandler calls it out quickly. "Wait... heavy… wait… dark and heavy…" He looks so confused it's hilarious. I smother a laugh. "IT'S NOT A ONE-TO-ONE RATIO!" my ally howls. He looks so frustrated that I legitimately burst out laughing. Never thought I'd do something like that in the arena. Chandler's utterly humiliated expression just makes me laugh harder.

"It's all right, I had the same reaction when my friends pulled it on me. English nerds have the weirdest jokes." He smiles weakly, but now he seems irritated, not disturbed so much. Success is indeed sweet.

It feels like the walls are rattling with the first cannon, but it's just my imagination. My teeth are set on edge and my head echoes with the boom. The bloodbath must be over. BOOM. A second cannon. Worriedly I glance at the younger boy sitting beside me. He doesn't seem to be going back into his weird shock. Good. Five more cannons boom. Seven deaths. There are seventeen of us remaining. And seventeen of us want to go home.

"Do you know who any of those were?" I ask hesitantly. Chandler nods, inhaling deeply.

"I saw Lucia die. Shot through the eye with a sling stone. The girl from Eight died and so did the boy from Eleven, when he went back to try and help her." He breaks off for a second.

"I'm sorry, man. Your district partner. That's three out of seven."

"She was the scariest one out there. I mean, I'm not glad she died, but I'm not exactly gonna cry over her. That sounds terrible, but I'm still at a loss for words."

"Oh. Okay. I get it. Anyone else?"

"I almost got caught escaping when Flavia slit Ruby's throat. Rowne died." I wait expectantly for his next words. "I thought Gray Tanner was dead, because he got a bad knock on the head. Because I can name all seven dead tributes- Tyman killed Neon. And then he died." The words strike me like a blow and I lose the ability to speak for a few seconds. Neon's gone. She's gone… forever.

* * *

**I have an obituarial quote for each tribute. Here are the ones for the bloodbath tributes. I'll miss each and every one of you guys. :'( You were terrific characters to write for :)**

**NEON WATTS: It was a time when only the dead smiled, happy in their peace.** -**Anna Akhmatova **

**LUCIA GREENE: The insane, on occasion, are not without their charms. -Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.**

**ROWNE MERCER: Death is the last enemy: once we've got past that I think everything will be all right. -Alice Thomas Ellis**

**KARLIE MILLS: Laugh as much as you breathe and love as long as you live. -Anonymous (or at least I don't know)**

**TYMAN GRUITER: It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; because there is not great effort without error and shortcomings... if he fails, at least he fails daring greatly... -Theodore Roosevelt**

**RUBY ELIS: There is nothing like looking, if you want to find something. You certainly usually find something, if you look, but it is not always quite the something you were after. -J.R.R. Tolkien**

**SKYFORD AL'RAND: And this, our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything. -William Shakespeare**

**CURRENT STANDINGS-**

**Careers: F1 Athena Monroe, M1 Adrian Rain, F2 Flavia Baxter, M2 Gray Tanner, F4 Camilla Thyra, M4 Alex Isis**

**A1: M3 Newt Hillen, M6 Chandler Mathews**

**A2: M5 Octavian Amorous, F7 Laken Marx, F12 Sara Ross, M12 Luis Thomsen**

**A5: F9 Cenia Trallon, M9 Alec Ryans**

**Loners: F5 Delany Lavis, M10 Blue Anston, F11 Bay Farris**

**Tell me what you thought (even if you no longer have a tribute!)! Also, any predictions or things you'd like to see happen :)**


	21. Another One Bites the Dust

**Props to XMistressChaosx, who went back and reviewed every single chapter after she caught up reading. Impressive fortitude! :)**

**There will be a new poll after a few days in the arena. Thanks to everyone who's voted on the newest one- if you haven't yet, DO IT NOW!**

**Still stuck on a story cover... right now I'm working on an idea with a friend, but it's slow going. At this point any fan art would be the cover. I have now challenged thee... :)**

**This chapter starts the day after the bloodbath. R&R!**

* * *

DISTRICT TWO MALE: GRAY TANNER

The dimly flickering lights seem brighter than the sun when I force my eyelids back. Groaning, I attempt to sit up, only to find the simple task nearly impossible. I clutch my head and curl up into as little a ball as I can manage.

"Hey! He's alive!" Someone shouts out from right above me, their voice drilling through my brain and hurting my head even more.

"Unngghhh," I croak, trying to shut them all out. Right now I wouldn't mind being dead or still unconscious. It's not cool at all to wake up in pain and confusion. And in a hospital.

Wait, where am I? The last thing I remember was being knocked on the head in the bloodbath of the Hunger Games- which is embarrassing enough on its own. So why am I in a hospital now? I couldn't have won the Games by laying there dead to the world for days on end. And that's Camilla who was yelling... although she might have been whispering, judging by the fact that even soft footsteps are pounding in my skull. I must still be in the arena. Yes, that's right, the arena looked like a hospital.

"Gray? Are you doing all right?" another girl shakes me and sends another wave of pain through my head. Athena.

"Don't shake him, it could give him brain damage at this point!" a boy speaks this time, "Since we don't know how bad the injury is, we should let him get up on his own."

"Hey buddy," my voice creaks, "Are you still alive, too, Alex?" My friend laughs and it cuts through four sighs of relief.

"Yeah, I'm fine, but you got knocked on the head pretty hard."

"I think I knew that." This time four people laugh. The throbbing in my head refreshes itself.

"You can talk, so I think you can stand!" Flavia growls, hauling me to a sitting position. The simple motion leaves me breathless. I might be able to stand, and I might be able to talk, but I sure can't do both at the same time! At least the pain in my head seems to fade when I'm upright.

"You're deathly pale, Gray," Athena says concernedly.

"I'd say it's time for breakfast anyway," Adrian suggests, "We've made it through the night and we all are still alive, so…" he trails off and shrugs, leaving his sentence unfinished.

"… let's eat!" Camilla and Athena finish it for him, both obviously irritated by the speaker. Alex helps me to stand up and points out our 'camp' to me. A small door leads to an equally small room that my allies have crammed with supplies. There's just enough room for six sleeping bags on the floor, five of which are rumpled and messy. Granite would not approve.

"What time is it?" I mumble. Camilla bites her lip.

"Um, the clock over there on the wall behind the Cornucopia says it's about six-thirty in the morning- which, judging by the sky outside is correct- but yesterday it said six-fifty about midnight, when I had my watch. It's weird. We think the Capitol put it there to mess with us. But right now, it's right."

Alex and Camilla veer towards a small heap of packs, leaving me alone. I probe the side of my head with my hand. I gasp with pain, but it's not just my head. Several of my fingers are bandaged and I remember that Alec Ryans hit them. They were either broken or dislocated, and somebody has taken the time to try and salvage them. Using my other hand, I discover a large bruise on my temple. Ouch. It's probably purple or black.

"Hey, Gray- catch!" I look up in time to see a can of food flying at my head. I swat it out of the air with my good hand and pick it up. It's dented from the floor- dented so much that the lid has started to come off. Some sort of anonymous meat lies in wait; I shudder but I don't complain.

"So, Flavia and I have come up with a plan for the day," Athena says, and we all listen. We're disciplined enough to know when a meeting has been called to order. "Flavia? I'll let you do the honors."

Alex leans over and whispers to me, "Athena's been trying to pacify your district partner ever since she- Athena- finished off some girl Flavia was torturing." I grimace, but quickly rearrange my expression when I realize Flavia is glaring at us, waiting for Alex to shut up. I figure she'd be angrier if she actually heard, so I relax a bit as she begins to speak.

"We've labeled the four-person alliance the biggest threat to us, since Luis Thomsen, a member of said alliance, personally threatened Gray here," I nod, remembering. The movement brings back a faint wave of pain in my head and I freeze. "So we'll be going after them. We know they went upstairs, thanks to Alex keeping an eye on them." My friend grins and shakes off the praise Camilla and Athena offer him. Adrian looks a little miffed. "We will kill any other tributes we find on the way up. Except… if one of you finds the male from Ten, bring him down here and keep him here for me." Several of us fidget nervously at the thought of what she plans to do to him. "Camilla will be staying here."

"We'll have one person guarding our supplies at all times. The Cornucopia does not need to be guarded, since we've moved all the contents. Everyone will eventually have their turn- if they live." Athena breaks in for a moment.

"As I was saying," Flavia continues angrily, "Gray, Adrian and I will begin on floor 5 and work our way down to floor 4. Flavia and Alex will begin on Three and work towards the basement. If they are not found, we will regroup here by noon and five of us will go to floor 6- and Gray, no offense, will be left here." I shrug.

"None taken."

DISTRICT FOUR MALE: ALEX ISIS

Flavia stands and motions for us to head out. The light from the windows is getting brighter, so the day is coming strong. We need to get out there before the other tributes wake up, or so Athena has said. I stride to the weapons and arm myself with two short swords and a crossbow. Flavia has a set of throwing knives, Athena has a longbow, Adrian has a light sword, and Gray picks up a flail. Camilla, of course, has her trident. She spent hours cleaning it last night from her kill, the thirteen year old boy from District Eleven. She feels terrible about it.

We slip from our camp and into the Cornucopia lobby. The floor is partially coated with dried blood and in some places there are scraps of white fabric. As Flavia leads the way to the staircase, I fiddle nervously with the turquoise stripe on my scrubs. Gray and I were the only ones to not get a kill in the bloodbath, and Flavia will be expecting me to fight. And murder. At home the only killing I did was with fake blood- onstage. Here I could kill- and die- for real.

The five of us trail up the stark staircases towards the new territories. Athena leads the way with an arrow already nocked and the sheath of her backup knife already loosened; Flavia stalks along almost stepping on the older girl's heels. Nobody's hanging out on the stairs, so Flavia and I turn onto the third floor and nod goodbye to the others without any hazards.

"Where do we start?" I mutter, staring down the blank hallway. The lights flicker ominously at my words.

"I see five doors, not counting the door to the stairwell," Flavia replies curtly, "I'll start at the end. That's where most of these scared losers will be cowering." I hold back an equally mean retort and nod, stepping towards the room closest to the door. She remains where she is for a moment and I shiver as open the heavy door.

A flash of movement catches my eye and I slam the door shut. Flavia glares at me. "What was that, you idiot?" I try not to stutter as I lie through clenched teeth.

"Oh... um, I was wondering if you would be torturing anyone you found?"

"What do you think?" the girl takes the first knife out of her belt and twirls it in one hand. "I have to practice for Blue, don't I?" She grins maniacally and steps silently down the hallway. I creak the door open again, carefully stepping around and checking for the person behind the door. I don't want any nasty surprises. Nobody's there. The room is dimmer than the Careers' room and the hallway- the only source of light is the window; the electrical lights aren't turned on. If there's a tribute in here, they're smart. They never did anything to alert someone to their presence.

I walk carefully to the gurneys, looking underneath and behind for my opponent. Still nobody to be found. Nothing in the room suggests any sort of human presence.

Except for that.

A few cracker crumbs, in the very back corner of the room. A faint footprint, leading away from said corner. Pointed towards the bathroom door. I creep to the access and rest my hand on the cold metal doorknob.

The door flies open to reveal a small, dark-skinned girl quivering in the corner, holding a dagger in one trembling hand. She squeals in fright and drops her knife. Bay Farris. I raise my crossbow and lock the bolt into position. She's too afraid to run for it; she's crying.

I can't kill a crying fourteen year old girl. I can't kill at all. I won't kill. And the thought makes me extremely happy. Bay bites her lip.

"Can't you just get it over with?" she squeaks. She sounds like Arietty- and I'll never get back to my little sister if Flavia finds out about this. I can never attack her, but I have to.

"No, kid, I can't." I lower the bow and hold out my hand to her. She looks astonished- no surprise when I think about it. "I'm Alex."

"You're a Career," she stutters, still hesitant, "Both my allies died because of you guys." How would she know that? Well, I guess most people would assume the killing at the bloodbath to be done by the Careers. Most of it was.

"Yeah, and? Look, you need to stay here right now. Flavia- of course you know who she is- is right down the hall and she might even be in the room next door. She'd kill you in an instant."

"I thought you would do that." Her words pierce me like a knife.

"I thought I would, too. But just stay here!" Bay nods quickly and I shut the door, stamping over the footprint to disguise it and sweeping the crumbs away. I need to check the other room or my ally will get suspicious, and I don't want her to find Bay.

I duck into the room adjacent to the stairwell and look around. No sudden movement, no one in the bathroom or behind the door. I can hear Flavia across the hallway- no cannons and no screams, so she must not have found anyone. I peer into the dimly lit room. The beds are empty. I scan the room from in-between the two gurneys.

I almost laugh at myself for not seeing it. The tip of a shoe sticks out from under a bed; when I bend down to look underneath the chartreuse stripe of District Five seems to leap out at me. The girl is sleeping, but it's a restless sleep. As I watch, she moans quietly and moves her head side to side. Her leg is bent at an unnatural ankle- broken, and badly. Adrian said something about breaking a girl's leg.

Another thing to hide from Flavia. Oh joy. I creep back into the hallway.

"Anyone?" she asks. I shake my head. "Why did you take so long in just two rooms?"

"I don't know, maybe I just checked more thoroughly than you!" She blushes a furious red.

"Shut up and get to floor one!" That's when the cannon sounds.

DISTRICT TWELVE MALE: LUIS THOMSEN

Sara absentmindedly swings her slingshot in lazy circles as she keeps watch at the doorway. We've only opened the heavy wooden thing a tiny crack, so we can hear voices in the hallway. We have to stay pretty quiet, too, but when the door is completely closed we could probably scream and not be heard. Those things are pretty soundproof. This entire place is. Why did we decide to camp out on the rubber room floor?

"L-L-Luis?" Octavian hoarsely whispers. I turn around swiftly, scaring the younger boy.

"Sorry," I say gruffly as he twitches and coughs. "What do you want?"

"I… I think L-L-Laken is wa-waking up." I nod and relay the news to Sara.

"Can you take the door? I want to see if she's finally back to herself. Merry was hanging out until she fell asleep and it almost killed me to hear twelve hours of fairy ranting." My district partner is genuinely concerned for our ally.

"That was Merry the whole time? Really? I thought Laken came back at the end." I assume the position at the door and toss my axe from hand to hand.

"Well, if you hadn't been so woozy after I patched up that knife wound in your back, you would have been listening when Merry said that the change can take a while. She hasn't taken this much time as of yet, but since this entire arena is a mess of stress, it'll be longer." I nod shortly and focus on the hallway. In the back of the room, I can hear Laken and Sara talking, with Octavian hovering nearby.

"Sara? Where am I?"

"In the arena."

"I don't remember this. Is the bloodbath over?" I can imagine Sara nodding. "Then why don't I- oh. It was her, wasn't it?" Her voice is wobbly with sadness now.

"Yeah. But you're alive. There are seventeen of us left. And you're back now." Laken lets out a few sobs, but then I shush everyone.

"We'll check everywhere!"

"C'mon, let's start here." It's the Careers, or at least several of them. I freeze.

"Luis, what is it?" Sara hisses. I grab the weapons sitting by the door and tiptoe to the back of the room.

"The Careers are right there. They're hunting." The tension is so thick I can almost taste it.

"Laken and Octavian," Sara whispers, her voice barely audible, "you guys need to get out. When Luis and I engage them when they come in, you run. To the staircase, to the other rooms, wherever. But get away." The younger kids nod fearfully, too afraid to even cry. I hand Laken her hatchet and Octavian his small bow. I have my axe and I give Sara two knives to try and defend herself with. A slingshot is not a hand-to-hand combat weapon.

The door creaks open. We crouch in the far corner behind the lone bed.

"See anyone, Athena?" Gray Tanner says. I hate that kid. The girl must have shaken her head, because the boy from One speaks up.

"So let's look around! I bet someone's in here!"

"It's the first room, Adrian. I doubt they'll be in he- THERE!" Gray shouts out. "THEY'RE IN HERE!" I push Laken and Octavian under the bed and stand up, trying to draw the Careers to the other side of the room.

"I'm so honored that you wasted your pointless little lives hunting us down," I snarl. Athena raises her longbow and with one swift movement has an arrow nocked. I sure hope I can dodge that thing. It's only twenty feet away. Sara climbs to her feet as well and Athena's arrow wavers between us.

"I've got him, Athena," her district partner says. He swaggers forward with a sword drawn and I almost laugh. For a guy about half a foot shorter than me and two years younger, he's got some attitude.

"I'll take the girl," Gray says softly, "There were two others and I think you can find them best, Athena." It sounds like flattery, but the boy's serious and sincere. The Career leader nods curtly and the two boys leap.

My axe easily parries Adrian's strike, and Sara leaps over the bed to take on Gray, leading him away from Laken and Octavian. Athena is more interested in combat than finding the two and she sends Sara flying into a wall before the girl can finish off Gray. The two kids scramble out from under the bed and make a dash for the door.

I can't see if they make it because Adrian leaves my cheek torn open and bleeding with the tip of his blade. I roar in pain and lunge at him, which hurts my back- no thanks to Lucia for knifing me. I end up swinging the axe too slowly and instead of lopping off Adrian's head, I jar my arm against his sword. His blade is lightweight but swift.

His next attack scrapes against the edge of my axe as I deflect it up and away from my heart. I twist the axe and the sword snaps in two. As the boy gapes at his jagged, broken saber, I grin.

There's still fire in his eyes as he looks up at me again. He swings and I bring up my axe to deflect, but I misjudge thanks to the shortened length of the sword. He charges, sword right at my stomach.

But in bringing up my axe too fast, I have swung into his gut and his blade hangs useless. The cannon fires. Two kills for Twelve.

DISTRICT SEVEN FEMALE: LAKEN MARX

Clutching my hatchet in one hand, I scoot out from under the bed and make a break for the door. Octavian's right in front of me, and we're right at the door when he coughs once and Athena whirls around.

"Get them, Athena!" Gray calls out as he swings his flail into Sara's side. My ally cries out and I shove Octavian into the hallway and run as fast as I can after him. I can't let the girl in my head take over now. I need to stay myself so I can stay alive! _I try and come forward, but for once poor Laken is actively fighting against me and I am repelled to the back of her mind. Ouch_. I scramble towards the staircase and the footsteps behind me give me motivation to keep running. For Tennan. For Luna. For my mom. I run and run, occasionally stopping to haul Octavian up an extra step when he has a coughing fit.

"Nice try, girl. You're faster than you look." I hear the disembodied voice- Athena's, although I thought she got left behind a while ago- and the next thing I know I'm landing painfully on the steps. Octavian stops for a moment and looks back in horror, but ultimately continues running.

"OCTAVIAN!" I scream, but he doesn't return. The snake_. I need to come out! She needs my help_! Athena rolls me over and helps me sit up on the steps.

"I won't torture you. Not like some of my allies," she says disgustedly. "But I can't let you live. I'm sorry." She takes the arrow out of her quiver and holds it to my throat.

My hatchet! I knee Athena in the stomach and scrabble for the small axe. She grits her teeth and lunges at me again, pinning my arm down. "If you don't want this to hurt, don't move," she breathes. I jerk my head up and we collide painfully. Seeing stars, I grab my hatchet and run again. I can see the floor 4 sign when Athena full-on tackles me. Her eyes are tearing up; it could be her reluctance to kill or the pain from our headbutt.

"Girl, I really am sorry." She tilts her head to one side. "For both of you." I twist my head to the side in one last effort to escape death and I feel the arrow slit my throat on the side of my neck. Blood starts to flow and I can feel the life draining away from me. It's deep. And the pain is so strong. So stro-

I wake up in the rubber room on the bed, partially blanketed by a straitjacket.

"Sh-sh-she's awake!" Octavian calls. I'm alive, is more like it. Unless we all died. I can feel a bandage, rough around the soft skin of my throat. It's fairly well done, so I guess Sara did it. She and I worked at the first aid station together.

"Don't sit up too fast," Sara wheezes, pressing a hand to her side, "Gray may have broken some ribs, but Athena just about gave you gills. Don't even try." I can breathe all right, although it hurts when I think about it. I brush my fingers against the bandage and wince with the pain. "I stitched up the wound as best I could," she offers. I smile weakly.

"It's all right," I try to say, but a wave of pain racks my throat and I wheeze until it ebbs away.

Sara and Luis seem concerned; Octavian is as twitchy as ever. "Try talking again," Luis says after sharing a look with his district partner, "Slowly." I gulp- mentally, I don't want to physically gulp right now- and open my mouth.

"It's all right." Nothing comes out. "It's-" I snap my mouth shut. I can't speak.

"You aren't t-t-talking," Octavian stutters.

"I think we all realize that, Octavian," Luis growls.

"What did she do to you?" Sara says. I can shrug without pain although I'm a bit sore from being slammed into the stairs over and over again.

"I don't know. How do you go to kill someone, they survive a slit throat, and then they lose their voice?" Luis is completely befuddled.

"I-I-I think I k-k-know," Octavian pipes up; everyone looks at him. "Wh-wh-what if Athena cut her v-v-vocal cords?"

"Then that girl's got some seriously tragic aim," Sara says bitterly. "The vocal cords are so close to the windpipe- if she had hit that, Laken would have been dead long before we found her on the stairs." Luis nods thoughtfully.

"We're glad you fought back- Athena's got at least one cut from your hatchet somewhere, because there's a slight trail of blood down the stairs."

I stand up, feeling really out of everything, and if I could scream without ripping my throat to pieces, I would. Instead I bite my lip so hard it bleeds. Adrian Rain lies with him eyes open in the center of the room.

"We don't know how they'll get rid of the bodies. I mean, they have to, don't they?" Sara worries. "I think we have to distance ourselves. I'm relieved he's gone, but I hate that we played into the Capitol's hands and went along with their game. At least only one died." We shuffle to the door and then, after a few minutes, into the hallway. A whirring, creaking sound comes from the room and we watch as a section of tile slides out from beneath Adrian; his body disappears into a black void.

"Question answered," Luis says, still watching as the tile slides back into place. All that remains of Adrian is a bloody smear on the ground. "And then there were sixteen."

"Sh-sh-should we stay here?" Octavian asks, "They kn-kn-know where we a-a-are, after all." I nod in agreement.

Luis sighs. "Grab your stuff, fellow tributes, because we're moving."

DISTRICT TEN MALE: BLUE ANSTON

_"Why are you trying to kill me?" Cordovan says._

_"I'm not," hisses the boy from Nine, "You're out to get me!" He raises his double-bladed staff and jabs at Cordovan with it. My brother sidesteps and uses his spear to slice open a gash on the boy's arm._

_"We don't have to kill each other!" Cordovan pleads, gasping for breath. The wild-eyed boy from Nine leers at him._

_"Then why are you attacking me?" My brother protests and tries to turn and run, but it's far too late. At age fourteen, he is one of the youngest competitors. The other boy is a year older, and burly from working in the fields. He shoves Cordovan to the ground and impales him on the end of his staff. But the cannon does not sound yet. The blade is buried in his stomach, not hitting any instant killing points. Cordovan gasps in agony and doubles over around the staff. The boy from Nine goes to slit his throat with a small knife, but an arrow suddenly is embedded in his right eye. Then his cannon sounds. The tributes from One, Two, and Four watch curiously as my brother dies_. BOOM!

I knock my head on the wall as I'm sitting up. Was that a cannon? It must have been. And a scream echoes from down the hallway.

I run out from my room at the end of the floor 5 corridor and immediately figure out the location of the fight.

"Athena! ATHENA!" One of the Careers calls out frantically from the room across from the stairwell. I don't believe for a second that the leader of the pack died. Then the clang of a closing door explains that Athena has left and the boy is calling for her to return. So who died? I didn't even know that there was an alliance in that room!

"C'mon, Gray! Adrian's dead, so you either fight and die or run and live!" District Twelve. I should have known- they could kill Careers; the pack wants them dead anyway.

And for some strange reason, eerily reminiscent of Cordovan and the boy from Nine, Flavia Baxter has been calling for my blood.

Gray Tanner, Flavia's district partner, bursts from the room and stands in the middle of the hallway, gasping for breath and glancing back at the room where the other alliance is waiting. "Go on, get out of here!" Sara Ross yells, flinging a sling stone at him. It misses, but barely; Gray yelps and dodges, fumbling with his flail. I freeze. I'm standing out in the open and I'm not as forgettable as some. His head turns- I feel like time has stopped and my heart has stopped with it- but he runs away and doesn't see me. My heart, abashed, climbs down from my throat in no sort of hurry, but leaps back up, trembling, as Sara and Luis charge out of their room and down the stairs. They don't seem to see me either, but I see the worry on their faces as the faint cries echo from below. And then things were silent. I lunge back into my hiding room as the Twelve kids stumble back up the stairs with Laken Marx supported between them. She's bleeding profusely from her neck.

"Quick! Bring the bandages!" Sara orders Luis around as she tries to save the younger girl's life. I can hear most of what they're saying and footsteps as the last member of their alliance makes his reappearance.

"Wh-wh-what happened to her?" Octavian blubbers.

"Athena tried to slit her throat," Luis replies darkly. It shuts Octavian up pretty quickly- it wouldn't surprise me if he was supposed to stay with Laken. They close their door and everything starts to go back to normal for me.

As normal as anything can be in this place. I ran from the bloodbath and I haven't seen death yet, so I feel like I'm stuck in a dream. At least I'm living in this dream, unlike so many others who died. Like my beloved brother, who never came home. I'm going to make it home, for both of us. I'm determined. I've already made it a day further than Cordovan did, but I wonder if his strategy had some value. He allied with the boys from Twelve and Six during training, and they both made it all the way to the top eight- together. I can definitely see the good points of having an ally or two, but to me it would just intensify the pain. I've already lost my brother- my best friend- to these Games, and losing a friend at the same time I'm trying to stay alive would send me over the edge. No, it's better for me to be alone.

I run my dry tongue over my lips, wondering where I can find water. I seriously doubt any of the sinks that one would expect to find in a hospital will be providing clean, easily gained water. I'll try, though. I'll find a bathroom somewhere and try the sink. I guess this is a really nice arena, if they bothered to give us indoor plumbing. They want duels and backstabbing and murder, not a bunch of kids going off and dying from starvation or sickness. Probably, though, they'll spring something on us when it gets slow, to shrink the tribute pool and get some action. They're terrible, the Capitol is. Almost two decades of this and they refuse to stop killing us.

I don't have anything except the clothes on my back, so it's easy to pack up. The wards, I think will be the best place to go, although I'll return to this room later on. Stay on the move during the day, set up a specific spot at night. I'll move it in a few days, though, or the Capitol will certainly bring somebody or something to me.

Right now I only care about water.

* * *

**ADRIAN RAIN: "I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend." -J.R.R Tolkien**

**CURRENT STANDINGS:**

**Careers- F1 Athena Monroe, F2 Flavia Baxter, M2 Gray Tanner, F4 Camilla Thyra, M4 Alex Isis**

**A1- M3 Newt Hillen, M6 Chandler Mathews**

**A2- M5 Octavian Amorous, F7 Laken Marx, F12 Sara Ross, M12 Luis Thomsen**

**A5- F9 Cenia Trallon, M9 Alec Ryans**

**Alone- F5 Delany Lavis, M10 Blue Anston, F11 Bay Farris**

**Tell me what you thought! (You too, lurkers! C: )**


	22. Nobody Likes Flavia

**So this is the rest of Day 2 in the arena. As always, thanks for the reviews and keep at it, you guys are awesome! :)**

**Sorry it's been awhile, dealing with the family cat being put to sleep (she was older than I am) and sports injuries. :/ Haven't had much time to write.**

**R&R! :)**

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DISTRICT FOUR FEMALE: CAMILLA THYRA

There isn't much I have to defend, so I sit lazily in the doorway, keeping my gaze on the stairway. It's really the only place someone could be advancing from, and the only people I'm expecting are my allies. In all the Games where One, Two, and Four have had trained tributes who allied together, the other tributes all avoided the group. We're the indisputable rulers of the arena. Well, with the exception of the Gamemakers, that is.

I may be relaxed, but my trident doesn't leave my hand. I absentmindedly rub at the prongs again, scrubbing away the nonexistent remaining blood of Skyford Al'Rand. He never deserved to die, especially so painfully as such a young age. I can't imagine myself dying at thirteen. Or at seventeen, for that matter. For all I've done and all I probably will do, I want to go home. Which means always being prepared, even if you don't think trouble is on the way.

A pattering of feet sound from the staircase and I grip my trident a little harder. I don't have to worry, though. It's Flavia and Alex coming up from Level One, alive and well. Flavia looks miffed, but Alex, trailing slightly behind our sadist-in-residence, looks both relieved and happy. They were wearing the same expressions when they passed through from Level 3 a while ago.

"Find anyone?" Flavia growls out an angry 'no' in response to my question and Alex simply shakes his head.

"The other group must have gotten that kill," the District Two girl snarls. Isn't her anger going just a little overboard? It's not like they've murdered her family. We're all fighting for our lives here, even if some have a better chance than others.

"Yeah, and?" my district partner counters, "They already promised to bring you the boy from Ten." Flavia shoots him an angry glare.

"Athena took my kill and she has to pay for it sometime or another," the girl hisses darkly. Alex and I both take an involuntary step away from her, and Alex curves around to stand beside me.

"Well," I say, changing the subject a little bit, "Do you know where they are right now?"

"They should be on their way back," Alex says thoughtfully. Flavia nods sharply.

"They should be down here already," she grits her teeth. I shrug.

"Not if they were fighting. That would justify at least another half-hour." Oops. Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned that. Flavia turns a bright pink all the way down her neck. I actually raise my hands to show that I meant no harm, like they do in old movies. She doesn't attack me, though, because the thumping of footsteps is now audible on the stairs again. We all whirl around to see the other group of Careers burst into the lobby area. Athena and Gray are wild-eyed and frenzied.

"Where's… Adrian?" I wonder aloud. Gray shuffles his feet and Athena bites her lip, tears welling in her eyes.

"Shouldn't you know, Camilla?" taunts Flavia, "He's dead. That's why Miss Leader here is about to bawl and why Adrian isn't around anymore!" She screeches with laughter. "We're in the arena, after all!"

"I'm not stupid, Flavia," my voice is steadier than my insides are, "I want to hear it from them."

Athena is equally upset with the girl. "I'm sorry for having feelings over the death of my district partner," she snaps, forgetting her tears for a moment, "Just because Gray is still alive and you're a sadist doesn't mean the rest of us can't mourn!" Flavia is taken aback at her harsh words, but Alex and I want details. Not to gossip like the girls back in Four, but to learn what happened to our ally. Flavia pays attention.

"We found Luis's alliance," Gray says, "in the very first room we searched. We fought, and Luis and Adrian went for each other. I fought the girl from Twelve, Sara, and Athena went after the two other kids. I nailed Sara in the side with my flail, but I'm pretty sure it popped my fingers all wonky again." He grimaces and holds up his hand. Sure enough, the fingers that Alec ruined are bent weird once more. "All I saw was Luis swinging this giant axe and Adrian falling. I barely made it out with my life, since Luis and Sara came after me."

"I chased down the boy from Five and the girl from Seven and slit the girl's throat," Athena says in a monotone, like she's simply saying what she had for lunch, "she won't live long with that damage. I went back up and saved Gray, but that was the fight. I didn't see Adrian fall."

"So… there are five of us now," I say dully, wrapping up Gray's hand again. Athena nods, her eyes puffy and red. She must have broken down on the stairs before she got here; that may be why they took so long. I quickly glance at Alex- would I cry if he died? Well, when I think about it, yeah. He's the only thing that I have left from home, and we have that promise. And he's a good guy, he doesn't deserve to die. But he will if I want to go home. And I desperately want to go home.

"Well, we have to do something now," Gray says, jerking me out of my reverie.

"Our deal earlier was to search the top floor." That's Alex, speaking almost as bluntly as Athena. The guys seem to be taking Adrian's death very badly, and Adrian was never really their friend. Gray and Alex are friends, definitely. Adrian was never a part of that. Who'd have thought?

"How are we gonna go it with only five left?" Gray asks.

"Leave you behind," Flavia sneers. Gray shrugs and he and Alex share a look. _Don't die like he did_. It's the same sort of look I gave Athena before she left.

"Come on, then!" Athena says, fiercely snatching up her bow.

DISTRICT SIX MALE: CHANDLER MATHEWS

Sixteen. There are sixteen of us left. And within a week or two, fifteen more will be turned into the cold, waxy corpses that the bloodbath was filled with. I shudder and turn to Newt.

"I guess it won't be too long before we find out who died."

"Yeah, and it'll seem faster. Judging by that light, it's about noon or an hour or so after." My ally says thoughtfully, "The Careers won't be done hunting yet and we haven't seen anything on this floor."

"We should check." I walk over to the door of the hospital room and peer into the blank hallway. "Clear, as it has been all morning."

"Fourteen others out there besides us, and we're alone on the third floor. It's not a bad turn of events," Newt is so calm I can barely believe it. I still feel like I'm in a dream. And my dreams were terrible last night. I must have woken up twenty times during the night, and each time with a picture of the bloodbath burned behind my eyelids. I'm the youngest tribute left in this stupid arena. I'm the remaining tribute from Six. I'm scarred for life from others' murders. I'm in the Hunger Games.

Newt may not be calm. He's probably in as much shock as I am from hearing about his district partner's death. Both of us are the lone representatives from our respective districts. If Lucia was barely a face in my mind, labeled as someone to be avoided, how must Newt be feeling about Neon? They weren't close friends, but they got along well enough. If she had wanted to join our alliance she would have been allowed to come in no matter how badly Newt and I got along with females. Neon could be alive right now. It'll haunt Newt for as long as he lives, like the Games haunt previous victors.

Maybe the good thing about going home in a box is that you don't have to worry about collapsing under the weight of these memories.

"Do you think we should change locations, Newt?" I ask, "The Careers haven't been to this floor yet, they're bound to come hunting sooner or later. With our luck, it'll be sooner." The older boy smiles very faintly and brushed off his white pants as he stands.

"Probably a good idea. I knew I picked a good ally." I sling our pack over one shoulder and dart to the door, bouncing on the balls of my feet as I wait for Newt to make his way over here. "Wait- before we go out, where are we heading? If we run into someone- especially someone dangerous- we need a rendezvous point." As I consider his words, I can almost hear our minds whirring.

"Up a floor."

"Down a floor." We speak simultaneously. "Um… well, what now?" Newt and I are both dumbfounded.

"I guess we can go down," I say. "They've checked there, we heard them. We'll be closer to other tributes, but I think we can manage. And besides, up is where the rubber rooms are. Down is more wards, which we can navigate easily." Newt grins at my acceptance of his idea.

"Now, which room?"

"As far away from the door to the stairs as we can get." That's easy and there's no dissent.

"See you there," Newt says, and I can't tell if he's half-joking or dead serious. We step into the hallway. Even though we're alone, I'm nervous. You don't know what sort of muttations lay behind each corner and turn. But I shake the thoughts away. I'm just going down a flight of stairs to another hospital floor. I'll be fine. I'll be fine. I'll be fine.

"C'mon!" A voice shouts from the stairs. I freeze with one hand on the door handle, the door partially open. "Alex, we know you can run faster than that!" I slam the door shut, but my feet are stuck to the floor like I'm in quicksand. The Careers are already hunting again, and they're closing in. I can see shadows moving in the tiny space under the door- feet black out sections of the stairwell's light. I can hear my heart beating. It's the bloodbath all over again. I'll die just like Lucia and Neon died. I'll never see Mom, Dad, Michelle, or Freidrich again. I'll never play ball in the back allies. Newt won't make it back, either. Out of the corner of my eye I can see him fiddling with his token, a girl's hair clip that he's pinned to his white shirt. He told me it was from his friend.

The Careers murmur for a moment, and then they continue walking. A drop of sweat rolls down my neck. They're right there. They're toying with us, they have to be. They heard the door slam shut; they know we're here. We're ready for slaughter.

"Hey, we never checked this floor!" Camilla Thyra calls out to the others, and the doorknob turns beneath my fingers. I move with it, trying to make sure she doesn't feel any resistance. Newt stops messing with the barrette. We're frozen.

"Leave it, Four, we're going to the top!" Flavia shouts and the door clicks closed. I let out the breath I never realized I was holding. The ominous footsteps fade.

"Do you know that those disembodied footsteps you hear sometimes are actually the result of faulty heating?" Newt says, "They sound like ghosts, but actually they're the wood expanding and creaking thanks to cracks in the pipes. As the hot air travels down the pipes, it heats the different sections of wood, making the fake footsteps sound like they're advancing." I smother a laugh. Only our alliance could think of facts like that to spring after a near-death experience.

"Well, at this rate, I'm going to prove you wrong. I'll die of fright, and walk through your house as a ghost, making footsteps everywhere!"

DISTRICT NINE FEMALE: CENIA TRALLON

"Alec!" I turn back to my ally and stand over him. "Alec, are you all right? Can you hear me?" He's coughing harder than I've ever seen someone cough, and he's not responding to my voice. "ALEC!" I drop my scythe and thump him on the back hard enough to be clearly heard. "I am not your ally to babysit you and be a nurse! Get up, you foolish lump!" Slowly, shakily, the older boy stops hacking up his lungs and sits cross-legged on the cold floor, clutching his head.

"The... worst headache… I feel… terrible," he croaks.

"Don't die on me," I say sharply, "Do you know why you're ill?" He shakes his head, but moans in pain as he does so.

"Bad idea." He sounds terrible, too. Like a dying cat or something. Maybe a cow. Moo. I stifle a giggle and try to haul him to his feet. "Cenia, stop!" he bellows. I let him fall to the ground again. "Dizzy."

"It's like the Capitol is targeting you or something," I mutter, "I'm fine. Barely hungry, even, and we haven't touched our food supplies."

"You're always one for conspiracy theories, aren't you?" Alec rasps cynically, "If I had had my drinks, I'd say it was a hangover- that's what it feels like." Something clicks in my mind.

"Of course! Alcohol withdrawal! That's what's making you sick!" Alec rubs his temples.

"Way to go, Trallon. That doesn't help at all. Especially since you shouted it out." He forces himself into more of a squatting position, so he's not technically sitting anymore.

"Well, too bad. You're in the Games, and the only reason I allied with you is because you were always a survivor. I say get up or I'll just put you out of your misery now." My voice is cold and harsh- so cruel that I effectively scare myself.

"We both know you wouldn't do that," my district partner growls, but he struggles to his feet nonetheless. It's easier to be brave when the scariest tribute in the arena is shorter than you, but it gets exponentially harder when he's a foot taller than you. I grip my scythe, but play along with his calling the bluff. In this arena, anyone can kill, no matter what they would do at home.

I trudge to the window as Alec adjusts to his new handicap, trying futilely to see the terrain around the hospital. We're on Floor Six, so we're at the top. There's no place higher to go, no staircase to the roof or emergency exit. We're at the top.

When we were coming up here after the bloodbath, we looked at the other floors. They have the same general layout- a straight hallway with three rooms on one side and two rooms and the stairwell on the other. Up here, in the laboratory, it's different. There's the area with the stairs that has tons of medical equipment like respirators and surgical masks and weird drugs. There are diagrams of human muscles and skeletons, too. That takes up about a third of the floor and it's where Alec and I have been staying. The middle third is six offices, each with a desk and other doctor-office normal stuff. There's another third of the floor yet to be explored.

"Cenia… Cenia, someone's coming this way." Alec snarls to me, motioning towards the door. I begin to panic. We can't fight in this condition, not with Alec totally incapacitated. Whoever's coming would have the complete upper hand.

"Get over here, then!" I say, running for the office section.

"We're gonna have to fight," he hisses, refusing to move.

"Get OVER here! You can't fight like that!" The brute get it through his head and shoulders his way past me into the first office, then the second, then across the little hallway to a third.

"There's not a good place to hide in here," I say, just as the door to the stairs bangs open.

"Search thoroughly!" Flavia Baxter cries hoarsely, "Someone's here!" Alec makes a motion to go out and attack her- and undoubtedly the other Careers- but I swing my arm out and end up elbowing him in the sternum. He wheezes and stays still.

"I don't see anyone, Flavia," Camilla Thyra says, sounding bored.

"Look, there's another door," Athena's voice is commanding, not just making an observation. I roll my eyes. I never thought I'd die like this. I've considered the possibility of death in the Games, but not in an office with an ally suffering from alcohol withdrawal. And not this calm.

That's weird. The tops of the office walls don't reach all the way to the ceiling. Maybe that's why we can hear the Careers so well? Maybe we could…

"Alec," I breathe, and when I get his attention I point out the walls. Scrambling onto the desk, I'm still a few inches from reaching the top. Alec boosts me up and I latch onto the edge. Slowly, slowly, I haul myself up- there's enough room on the top for me to lie on it without falling immediately.

What will my ally do? As much as I don't trust Alec, he's my district partner. I turn my head to look at him, down below in the office. The Careers are across the hallway, I can see them now in the first office.

Alec isn't there. Oh crap, what if he went to fight? No, a bit of movement catches my eye. The copper-skinned boy pulls himself onto the wall across from me, and I grin. At least the withdrawal isn't inhibiting his judgment yet. Hopefully the Careers are too dumb to look up. They'll all be looking stupid, that's for sure.

Two of them burst in through the door of the office we were just in, and the others are across the hall. My heart seems to falter, but its beats are frantic nonetheless. If they look up we're royally screwed.

"Is anyone there?" Flavia hisses, leaning on the wall directly beneath me. If she tilts her head back just a few inches…

DISTRICT ONE FEMALE: ATHENA MONROE

"Come on, guys," Flavia's voice is almost taunting, sneering at us for not wanting to kill and torture as much as she does. My mom always told me that the Games were going to make me or break me. Flavia's already broken, probably she cracked years ago. The Games just shattered the remainder of her pitiful soul.

"This is it!" Alex says, his voice full of impending doom. Am I the only one who can obviously tell he's nervous? I pat him on the back as Camilla slowly swings the door open. The room is huge, filled with medical supplies and medicines that we have no use for- things like sedative and vaccines for chicken pox. I nock an arrow and peer around a few boxes and under a few tables, but I don't see anyone. Flavia kicks a small empty crate, sending it skidding several meters across the slick tile floor.

"Search thoroughly!" she snaps, "Someone's here!" I roll my eyes as I duck under the next table. There's no good place to hide right here. Camilla folds her arms and refuses to search any more.

"I don't see anyone, Flavia." She's almost angry at the Two girl's commanding audacity. I stand up, scraping my scalp along the edge of the table as I do so, and see another door on the other side of the room.

"Look, there's another door." I just want to get out of here. Rubbing my sore head, I lower my bow and follow the others through the door. It's a series of small rooms, offices by the looks of them. We cram into the first office on the right all at once, everyone wriggling around in an attempt to find any other tributes. At one point Flavia thinks she saw someone, but it was Camilla standing up from where I had accidentally tripped her. This won't work, we could just as easily search one office per person and call for assistance if we discovered prey.

I drag the others from the room and into the small hallway. Shoving Camilla and Alex into the first office on the left, I lead Flavia into the adjacent room. I don't trust the girl- keep your friends close and your enemies closer, isn't that what they say?

Pulling the bowstring back cautiously, I peer around the desk, ever searching for another human. The air thrums with tension, I feel like someone's close. It could easily be my imagination. I narrow my eyes. Flavia leans against the wall.

"Is anyone there?" she coos. I grimace. I'm terrified of her evil-hunting voice and I'm her ally; it makes me pity the tributes she will find. I crouch and glance under the desk; no one is there. The office is empty. No one behind the bookshelf, no one standing behind the curtains on the window.

"Let's keep moving," I say to the girl from District 2. She nods reluctantly. As we exit the room, I check behind the door. Still nobody else. I peer into the next offices as Flavia searches them thoroughly- I still don't want to get too close to her. Not when she still wants that poor kid from Ten dead, and he remains alive. She's mad at me and anyway, who hasn't heard of a second-in-command killing their leader to gain power? Happens all the time. Especially here.

"Are we ready to go back downstairs?" I ask, bored. Alex and Camilla nod halfheartedly.

"No!" Flavia cries from the back of an office.

"Why not?" Camilla hisses.

"There's someone here, there has to be!" she groans, "Look, there's another door back there. We have to look for prey!" I won't hear of this.

"Flavia, we're leaving." She waves my words off like flies. "I'm serious, give it up, we have plenty of time. Just give it up for today. It's getting late, the light from the windows is getting redder like sunset, and Gray will be waiting." She glances at me with fire in her eyes.

"Someone is here," speaking through gritted teeth, Flavia keeps searching.

"Alex, grab her." I reach out and pull the belt of knives from Flavia; Camilla knocks the daggers from her hands. It takes both Alex and me to restrain the girl from Two, but we successfully pull her away from the other door. We are leaving now.

"Flavia, just come back to camp and give it up already," Camilla pleads, "We have tomorrow and the day after that and however many days there are after that!"

"Really? Do we?" Flavia narrows her eyes and leers at me. "Did Adrian have all that time? I don't think so. Otherwise, he'd be here, wouldn't he?" Her voice is silky smooth and yet as sharp as her knives.

"Don't talk about my district partner like that," I whisper.

"Oh, I think I'll talk about him as much as I like," she giggles like a toddler, "Because you know you're not good enough to save him, and you know he'll never come back, and you know you're going to die. Is that it, fearless leader? You were named after one of those Greek goddesses. You aren't living up to it, honey. You're afraid. You're so broken."

"Shut up, Flavia Baxter." While my nemesis's words were like silk, mine are unbridled flames and spikes of ice.

"No."

"Yes."

"No, I don't think I will. Weakling." I scream and pull back on the string of my bow. When I release an arrow will pierce her heart and she will know that I am not weak.

"SHUT UP!" Suddenly hands are on my shoulder, my arms, and I see the pair from Four pulling me away and restraining Flavia. She shakes away Alex's hold.

"I'll be fine, she's the one you need to watch for." Camilla's fingers tighten on my wrist as I tense up again. Flavia leads the way to the camp like a princess- nose in the air. I fume, close behind.

This is the way the mutiny starts, then.

DISTRICT FIVE FEMALE: DELANY LAVIS

Whatever bone was broken during the bloodbath, it hurts like crap. Aren't your leg bones supposed to be powerful and strong? I never thought a simple arrow could have enough power behind it to hurt a person like that. And I never imagined that pain could be so… painful. It hinders my thoughts and of course, the part you actually hear about, the blood loss limits my movements. I managed to drag myself all the way to the third floor and under the rickety metal hospital bed, but now I can't believe I even did that. It must have been the adrenaline.

I'm really glad nobody found me- if they did I probably wouldn't ever have woken up. How did I fall asleep in this pain anyways? It seems to be getting worse by the minute. I squirm out from under the bed, trying to keep my broken leg from touching anything, and look at the injury.

Blood oozes from a deep puncture hole. I tore out the arrow a while before; if I had rolled over I probably would have died from blood loss. Little flakes of bone litter the hole, and below the wound my leg is bent at the strangest angle. Terrible break. A sudden wave of nausea overwhelms me and I retch onto the floor beside me. How am I still alive?

My pack! The whole reason I obtained such a bad wound. Maybe there's something I could use to stop the pain? I scrabble under the gurney for a few minutes until I find the bag. It's average sized, but in the arena the smallest amount of supplies can be life saving. I pull open the bag as fast as I can and dump it on the ground. Dried meat and fruit, a few packets of crackers, a bottle of water that I take a short drink from, some petroleum jelly, gloves, and a roll of bandages. Well then, if that's all I'll have it's what I'll survive with. The food is important, but with the pain I'm not exactly interested in eating.

The bandages are most helpful right now. Moving slowly, I wrap them around the puncture wound. I can't make a splint out of anything, so the only thing I can do is wrap up the hole and hope it doesn't get infected.

I whimper a few times as I apply the bandage. I never thought first aid could hurt so badly.

"Who's there?" I jump and my leg hits the ground hard, making me cry out. "Who's there? I heard someone!" It's a young girl by the sound of it. Pain racks my mind and the only thing I can think to do is sit up against the bed. Footsteps. I bite my lip and gulp. Anywhere else at any other time I wouldn't be frightened, but these are the Games I'm dealing with. And I don't have a weapon.

A pair of small white running shoes enters my field of vision. "You're from Five, right?" the girl whispers, bending over me so she can see my face. She has an elfin face and dark skin. The girl from Eleven, Bay if I recall correctly.

"Yes," I manage hoarsely, "Delany."

"I won't hurt you."

"What are you doing here?"

"After the Careers came through this morning, I decided to move- I used to be in the room down the hall. So I was scouting."

"The Careers were here?"

"Yeah," she's acting oddly calm for a girl who could have died multiple times, "the boy from Four found me, but didn't hurt me. He saved my life." She says it so casually. She's been shielded- she probably never saw anything of the bloodbath.

"Didn't you have allies?"

"Yes, Skyford and Karlie." I remember Skyford. He was the one who said 'good luck' to me at the training sessions. "They both are dead." Her voice is so full of pain, and I remember her as being happy-go-lucky in training. Poor thing. My heart breaks.

"I… I'm sorry."

"It's all right. They were good people and they don't have to worry about anything ever again." Her simple words, spoken so easily, tear a heart more than she could imagine. "What happened to your leg?" Her words are horrified.

"Broken at the bloodbath."

"Does it hurt?"

"More than you can imagine. I hope you never hurt like this."

"Me too, that looks terrible." She takes a pack off her shoulder. "I think I have some painkiller medication in here, do you want some?" I'm skeptical.

"Wait, how did you get that pack?"

"What? Skyford got it… from the bloodbath."

"And you'd give me pain meds for nothing in return? They're some of the most useful things in the arena!"

"Even if I wanted payment, this conversation is plenty! It's nice to know I can just talk to you and you won't kill me." With that, I accept some of the little purple pills from Bay. They're quick and soon the pain dulls to a steady ache.

The sky outside is almost black, and Bay hasn't left. I don't especially want her to. We may not have made the official offer of alliance, but we can be companions. It's simple as that- a truce. She leans against my side like a younger sister would. Jesy did that too, when we were younger.

With a loud trumpet blast, the ceiling lights up and a projection onto the tiles shows the Capitol seal. So this is how they show the faces of the dead. They must have separate projections in each room on each floor.

The lone face in the sky is that of Adrian Rain. A Career?

"Look at that, Bay Farris, we're that much closer to home." The only response is a slight twitch- a smile spreads across the younger girl's face.

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**CURRENT STANDINGS:**

**Careers: F1 Athena Monroe, F2 Flavia Baxter, M2 Gray Tanner, F4 Camilla Thyra, M4 Alex Isis**

**A1: M3 Newt Hillen, M6 Chandler Mathews**

**A2: M5 Octavian Amorous, F7 Laken Marx, F12 Sara Ross, M12 Luis Thomsen**

**A3: F5 Delany Lavis, F11 Bay Farris**

**A5: F9 Cenia Trallon, M9 Alec Ryans**

**Alone: M10 Blue Anston**

**Yep, a slow chapter here. And you know what the Capitol does when the Games get slow... hehehe... :) Tell me what you thought!**


	23. Animalistic Tendencies

**I've had several people say they wanted more details pertaining to the appearances of the tributes. I tried to put a bunch in this chapter, but if you guys want me to, I can make a list at the beginning of the next chapter with basic descriptions for everyone still alive. Just mention this in your review.**

**Thanks to the lurkers who reviewed, as well as the (more) regulars. :) It means a lot. I love you all!**

**Happy early birthday to DA Member Hogwarts! This can be your present from me! :)**

**New poll on my profile!**

**Day 3 of the arena begins... now! :) R&R!**

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DISTRICT FIVE MALE: OCTAVIAN AMOROUS

The sky is a pale gray when I stir on the third day of the Hunger Games. I stretch and cough quietly, glancing around at my allies. All of them are still dead asleep, although Laken twitches and her fingers flutter towards her bandaged throat. I'm so nervous around them; I shouldn't, I know they won't hurt me, but I still get the feeling that I'm not well-liked. Do they know? Really? Can they know? I haven't said anything, but could it be in the way I act? Nobody in Five ever figured me out, but in the Games everything changes.

A simple knife is all it will take. I've been planning this; I never wanted to stay in an alliance for long, especially such a large alliance. The Career will still be targeting Luis and Sara, but I don't have to be worried. Everyone overlooks 'Oct-Oct-Octavian' Amorous. Even in the Games, where I could easily outsmart them all, I slip under all radars.

My original plan was to just slip away in the dark, but in this arena it would be too easy for them to find me. I can't let them come after me at all, it's far too dangerous. If I simply leave I'll become an enemy, one to find and kill. They'll be my personal Career pack. I tiptoe over to the supply packs and dig through the weapons we have, retrieving a small dirk. It's the only way; I tell myself over and over again, it's the only way to survive.

Luis is the most dangerous, so I'll have to kill him first. It'll have to be the throat, to stop him as quickly as possible. Sara has to go as well; she'd hunt down anyone who killed her district partner. If I have time I'll kill Laken as well, but I don't think she'd be one for revenge or targeting. She wouldn't stay with me, that's for sure. I won't take all the supplies.

Strangely enough, I don't think about killing and hesitate over it. I'm such an animal, but the human part of me refuses to flinch away. It's like my moral code, whatever I had of it, was chased away with the gong at the bloodbath. I never thought I would sink this low, never thought I would want to kill and not be reluctant to go through with it. I flip the dagger around in my hands for a few seconds and ponder… just thinking about home. Onyx's face fills my mind. My little brother who hasn't been my little brother for years now. We haven't ever gotten along particularly well, but I miss him. I'm fighting for him.

My mind gets distracted by a sudden blast of heat from the radiator on the other side of the room. No, we can't have that, it'll wake up the alliance. Turning on the air conditioner should help. It's a big white box on the wall, and a small panel on top lets you decide the quantity of cold air you want blown in your face. I turn the dial to 'low'. A soft hissing sound is emitted, but it's quiet enough that's I'm not worried about it making Luis and Sara and Laken wake up.

I turn back to my sleeping allies and edge towards Luis. He's sleeping with his neck facing up, so this should be fairly easy. He looks so much younger than his eighteen years- he's not tensed up and scowling. Why don't I feel bad; why don't I hesitate? I don't know. I'm just not the same anymore. I fidget my fingers on the handle of the dagger, shake my light hair out of my eyes, take a deep breath, and- what's that?

A strange pale gas is hissing through the air conditioner like steam from a boiling pot. I don't know what it is, but it has to be dangerous. And it's loud. On the floor, Luis begins to stir and I jump back. I have to turn it off and finish the job. Things are too tense here.

I work my way back to the air conditioner on my hands and knees, trying to stay away from the gas. Huge clouds of it belch from the vent and I take a deep breath. I can't reach the on/off panel without standing right in the fumes. Leaving the knife on the floor, I stand up.

"Octavian?" Sara says, her voice groggy and bewildered, "Octavian, what are you doing?"

"Octavian!" It's Luis now. "Get away from there!" I grin. They think I'm trying to help them or something.

I fumble for the controls, but I can feel a cough rising up in my chest. No… no, I can't let it tear free! The misty gases brush against my face and hands, cool and serene. Not smoggy like the power plants in Five. It's so inviting. But I won't cough.

There! The dial! I grasp it and wrench it to the side, turning the air conditioner off. A last cloud of gas bursts from the vents and then it stops. My allies are still clamoring for me to get out of the room.

Curse my weak lungs. I can't hold on to the air any longer and let loose a hacking cough. I wheeze, taking deep breaths. The air is cold and moist.

Which means I just took several huge lungfuls of gas. With the realization, my vision blurs and I feel dizzy. I can't force a breath and my chest moves in short, shallow, useless gasps.

"OCTAVIAN!" Luis bellows, charging into the vapor and scooping me up. I feel like a rag doll, a dead rag doll. I can cough still, but all it does is expel the last of the oxygen from my body. The gas is suffocating me, I can feel it.

It's a hard landing on the tiles outside of the room, but it's fine. It means I can still feel things, and Luis was in a hurry. It's not the worst that will happen to me. Tremors rack my thin frame and my head knocks painfully against the cold floor. I still have things to say, a family to get home to- including Onyx, and a life to live. I'm only fourteen! I would cry if I could.

"Octavian, you'll be fine," I can hear Sara, but she sounds distant, "Octavian, stay conscious. Listen to me. Can you speak? No, don't speak, just stay with me. Stay with us, Octavian. You'll be fine." I start to close my eyes, but she slaps me and I jerk them open again. Her dark blond hair tickles my face and her District Twelve gray eyes are wide with fear.

"I w-w-was going to kill you all, y-y-you know," I rasp, "B-b-but I went to t-t-turn off that dumb g-g-gas and you will all outlive m-m-me." Luis shakes his head.

"No, you're our ally. You'll live. We'll save you. You wouldn't hurt us."

"I was g-g-going to k-k-kill you first, L-L-Luis." He turns away. More convulsions, but I don't feel my limbs flailing. I'm fading. Sara withdraws as well, but another pair of hands find their way onto my cheeks and Laken tilts my face so I can see her. She's fuzzy around the edges, like the picture on an old television. She mouths something, and I don't hear any words- I don't know if that's my hearing going out or her being mute- but I can tell what she said. _Don't go_. "I w-w-wasn't really thinking. A b-b-boy like me? Ha! There's no ch-ch-chance I could win the G-G-Games. Goodbye." I don't know if she heard me or I was just saying the words in my head.

But my green eyes start to dim and the thing I notice, as I go blind, is that a tear slides down Laken's face.

It's cold. I'm the observer, not the fighter. I notice things. I don't kill things.

So cold. The Capitol knew that.

I can't even feel the cold anymore. And they acted on it, and it worked. One less pawn to play the Games.

I can't remember anything. Run, eat, sleep, kill. Run, eat, sleep, kill. I am aware of my body writhing in agony, and yet my own death throes are foreign to me.

I am such an animal.

DISTRICT ELEVEN FEMALE: BAY FARRIS

The cannon wakes me up. The echoes in the hospital arena leave shivers trailing up and down my spine, and it takes a few seconds for me to realize I'm not alone anymore. Delany is here with me- I have an ally. Again, that is. I try not to think of Skyford and Karlie, but now I can't control it. Tears flood my cheeks and I bury my face in my hands.

"Wha?" Delany groans, lifting her head from the ground with a bleary groan, "Who's there?" Her light brown hair is flattened on one side from sleep and the other side is wild and unruly. I smile briefly through my tears and then burst into sobs again. Delany blinks a few times. "Whoa! Bay! I forgot about you, sorry about that! You're… crying." She frowns. "What's wrong?" She pushes herself to a sitting position and tilts her head to one side. I see it coming before she does- she tries to stand and walk over to me. "AUGH!" Her leg crumples when she puts the slightest weight on it. The break isn't healing any. "Well, I guess I won't be going anywhere anytime soon." Her dull tone betrays her fear.

"I've still got some pain medication," I sniffle, fighting back more tears. This is important, I can help Delany. I never could have helped my other allies. My friends. I shake my head to try and clear my thoughts as I dig in my bag for the box of pills. Delany swallows three of them dry and winces.

"They taste like chalk." She's smiling, though. "Not that I'm complaining." The Capitol medicine works fast and she seems to feel better almost immediately.

"It's not actually helping your leg, though," I worriedly reply, "We'd need to go in and clean the wound and set the bone if you want to walk again in this arena." Delany grits her teeth.

"Glad to see you've spent so much time at first aid."

"Do you want to do it?"

"Yes. But I hate the thought of it- popping the bone back into line? The idea of it makes me nauseous." My stomach does a flip at the notion as well, but I can't exactly let it control me. This is for a friend, not me. I'm not going to chicken out of saving a life. Not when so many have already been lost.

"I guess we better get it over with, then." We gulp almost simultaneously, although Delany is just swallowing another purple painkiller pill.

"Yep. Let's do this thing. Or… you know… you do it and I'll try not to scream too much. Because I don't think my body will let me do that to myself. Even though I'm so drugged up I can't even feel my leg." I smile genuinely and brush my fingers against Delany's knee tentatively.

"Ready?"

"Ready. Go ahead." I brace her against the wall and take hold of her ankle with one hand. One… two… three! I almost punch the break with my other hand- it takes that much force- and her leg snaps back into a normal angle. She screams and passes out with the pain.

Maybe we should have waited a few minutes, for the pain meds to really get going?

Blood seeps through the bandage, which means the puncture wound Delany has must have opened up when we set the bone. I grimace. She can take care of the blood herself when she wakes up; the bandage holds, so she won't die of blood loss anytime soon. I struggle to stop from vomiting as Delany very slowly comes around.

"Well… that looks a lot better, actually," she says in a breathy, slightly shrill voice.

"Except for the blood," I point out the soiled bandage.

"Good point." She takes yet another pill and goes to work replacing the crimson strips of cloth with fresh white ones. "I better stop with the painkiller. I'll end up passed out again- but dead." I offer a weak smile. All arena humor is morbid.

I snap my head up to look at the ceiling as a strange grating noise comes from above our heads. A slab of the ceiling slides away and a silver parachute flutters into Delany's lap. She cringes when it hits her leg, but she's gotten over most of her previous agony. That might be the pain meds, though. Either way, she isn't in pain and that makes me happy.

Then I realize the enormity of the current events. A sponsor gift! I squeal in delight and Delany's face lights up like she just got a free pass back home without any other tributes dying. Her pale fingers tear at the package and soon a tangle of plastic and metal emerges.

"What is it?" I ask in wonder.

"Something for my leg," she mutters, holding up the contraption, "See, it will fit around the uniform and hold my leg in place."

"Look!" I say, pointing to a padded area near one end of the thing, "It will support the break. When you wear this, you'll be able to walk and not worry about making the break worse!" My ally grins.

"Thanks, sponsors!" she says cheerily as we strap the splint around her leg. "Here, Bay, help me up." I leap to my feet and haul her up with me. She can take a few wobbly steps and then she sits down on the ward bed and grins at me. "Well, it hurts, but I can manage pretty well from here."

"Great!" I cheer. A look of concentration comes over Delany's face.

"You were crying, before we tried to set my leg. What was going on there?" she says. She remembered!

"Oh… just my allies. They were my age or younger. They never will see their families and friends again." Thinking about Karlie and Skyford makes me tear up again. "I wish they were still here." Delany hangs her head in sorrow. I don't think I could stand to see her die, too. I wasn't witness to the others' deaths, but if I stay with Delany I will have to see someone die sooner or later. I can't deal with that, not again, not more mourning. I'm already getting so attached to her- this can't continue.

"Sorry about your allies, Bay," Delany whispers.

"I can't stay here."

"What?"

"I can't stay here! What if someone finds us? I wouldn't be able to bear your death as well. I have to go. I have to leave. I'm so sorry, Delany, but I can't stay with you and risk having you die with me." She nods sadly.

"It's all right. I understand- why do you think I never allied with anyone before the arena? Besides, I can walk now, I'll be fine." I swing my pack onto my shoulder and turn to leave. Then, as an afterthought, I pull out the tin of painkillers and toss them to the girl from Five. "I can't take these," she declares.

"You'll need them more than I will." And I insist she keeps them until she finally quits trying to return them. "May the odds be ever in your favor, Delany!"

"Sometimes you are kind to a fault, Bay," Delany sighs, "The next time you see tributes, don't automatically try and be perfectly nice to them." She grabs my shoulders. "I don't want you to die. Look after yourself, all right?" I nod and turn away, ducking out of the ward room and into the corridor. It's time to run.

DISTRICT NINE MALE: ALEC RYANS

"Cenia…" I croak, my own voice battering my brain, "Cenia… where are you…?" I groan and clutch my head.

"Right here," her voice grates in my head, "Alec… are you all right?"

I force my eyes open and the light from the barred windows almost blinds me. "AUGH!"

"Alec, look at me! Are you all right?" I focus on something dark scuttling towards me. Cenia? Why is Cenia crawling all over the floor?

"Cenia… Cenia why are you doing that?"

"Alec! I don't care how bad your withdrawal is, look at me! I'm not doing anything strange!" A sharp smack sends me reeling and I brace myself against the office desk. The crawling girl in front of me looks up, blinks twice, hisses, and disappears. I twist around to see Cenia standing right behind me, scowling.

"So that… wasn't you?"

"Whatever you hallucinated, it wasn't me, idiot." She climbs over the table to our supplies and fishes out a small tin of broth. "You're shaking. Here, eat this, it'll help." She hands me the now opened bowl and some of the liquid sloshes out over the edge. I can see the fingers on my free hand quivering when I look.

"No. I'm not hungry." I shove the soup back to Cenia. And it feels true- the thought of consuming food makes my stomach churn.

"Eat." I've never heard her speak with so little emotion before. "Eat, you need it."

"I don't want it!"

"You sound like a two-year-old! JUST DRINK THE SOUP!" I scoop up the broth and take a few gulps.

"Urggghh…" My stomach rumbles and I swallow the burning bile that's crept up my throat. If I bothered to drink it, it's staying down. It will stay down. I curse mentally as I fight my nausea.

It's just when I pass out that I win the battle.

"Alec? Alec, can you hear me? I am not your babysitter, so get up!" Cenia shouts, shaking me. I blink groggily and look around, waiting for my eyes to focus on something. They eventually pick the office desk and I rub my temples.

"I'm awake." My head still throbs.

"All right, then, let's do something. Like see what's behind that other door!"

"I am not moving."

"Yes, you are, someone is bound to come up here sooner or later and I allied with you because you're a survivor, not a whiny idiot. Get up."

"Fine." No matter how much taller, stronger, more intimidating, or older I am than she is, Cenia is the leader of this alliance. She's got some sort of authority that I, gang leader of Nine, don't. I haul myself to my feet and scoop up one of the packs. "Let's go check out the last room." We step carefully into the hallway and dash to the unopened door. Cenia wrenches it open and I watch for attackers from the supplies section. Nobody shows up by the time we close the door, so I figure we're safe for at least a little while. That's all I can 'figure' for now, because the few meters we moved turned my throbbing headache into a migraine. Worse than any injury or hangover I've ever had. My vision goes fuzzy for a few seconds while I rest my shaking hands on my knees.

"Wow." Cenia is astounded. I clench my jaw and force myself to stand up. If my district partner is awestruck, I had better take a look at this stuff.

No wonder they called Floor Six the laboratory. Black tables litter the room and shelves full of jars and vials and boxes and… utensils line the walls. I had been questioning the naming of this floor- until now. It really is a laboratory.

"Alec! Over here!" Cenia seems utterly fascinated by a terrarium and I shuffle over to stand beside her, fighting to keep my balance. The tank is inhabited by small reddish-brown things that resemble caterpillars.

"What are they?" There's no label or anything, but what I know should be sufficient. "Cenia, they're Capitol creations. We should stay away."

"But look! They're so interesting!" That's true, they sort of shimmer in the light. They're pretty neat.

"They're still mutts, Cenia. We should go." She bites her lip and nods, and we turn away.

CRASH! One of the packs hits the tank and it tumbles to the floor, spilling the grub creatures every which way. I wince because of the noise; Cenia cringes at the mess. "We can't leave them there. You're right, Alec, they're probably dangerous. We can't let them roam free." Several of the things are inching towards me.

"Or we could squish them." I stomp on one of the things, but it doesn't squish. The exoskeleton is exceedingly strong. "Quick, then, back in the tank!" I pick one up with my thumb and forefinger and try to toss it towards its enclosure. It grips me with some sort of sucker and begins to burrow into my skin. "Augh!" I pry it off with my other hand and fling it into the tank.

Many of the reddish worms are crawling towards Cenia. She's thrown several back into the tank, but there are three attached to her fingers, one on her ankle, two on her forearm, and one, strangely, on her neck. "Cenia!" I rush to her and yank the thing off her neck. It leaves a bleeding hole in its place.

"Alec! Help!" she shrieks, flailing and sending a few of the grubs back to their cage. I pick a few worms off her, but then I have to detach them from myself. Suddenly the headaches don't seem so bad. Adrenaline floods my system, pushing the withdrawal to the side.

The last of a worm disappears into a tunnel it's made in Cenia's arm, and blood trickles from the small circle it left on the surface. I look around for more of the creatures. There are no more in plain view, but as I watch my ally I see a total of six bleeding holes in her arms and legs, all of which look much deeper than the mark on her neck.

"Alec… what's happening to me?" she starts to panic as her arms fall limp, "Alec, I can't feel my arms and legs at all!"

"They must have hit your major nerves," I say, gritting my teeth. Bruises are forming up and down her arms, taking the form of trails. The worms are moving. "They're burrowing deeper and deeper inside of you."

Cenia screams, but I don't think she even registered my words. A round of twitching follows her cries, and she collapses to the ground. I barely manage to catch her before she hits the tiles hard.

"Alec… everything's getting fuzzy," she whispers, her olive-colored eyes seeming to go in and out of focus, "I can feel them… they're inside of me… going deeper and deeper…" I can't do anything for her now. I groan and run my hands through my short black hair. "I'm dying. I never imagined it would be like this… so slow." A bruise begins to spread onto her neck. A worm is in her neck, moving towards her brain.

"Cenia. It's all right. Think of home. Think of Lolium. And… your family."

"It's not all right. I don't want to think of them, it'll only hurt more." She begins to speak again, but cuts off her words with a gasp. She curls up and claws at her chest. "My heart… my lungs." Her voice is ragged.

"Cenia. I'm here."

"You're a survivor. I wanted you to die so many times, because I knew you had to if I wanted to get home. But now I just want District Nine to have anyone come back. And don't do anything stupid, because then Avia will kill you even if you make it back."

And then she's gone. I can hear her last breath escape her lips with a sigh, and then she stops. Her eyes stop looking at the ceiling, her bruises stop spreading. She stops living. She loses the Games. I have done this before, for the street kids who die in fights or at the hands of Peacekeepers. It's the only time I force myself to really care. I brush back her dark hair and close her eyes, and then I lay her slender body down on the floor so that she could be sleeping. When I step away the floor slides out from under her and the corpse is removed.

And after that I don't care anymore. I have no reason to care. And I wonder if I ever really cared at all.

DISTRICT SEVEN FEMALE: LAKEN MARX

The second cannon of the day fires and it makes Sara and me jump. Luis just scowls at the ceiling. "So, three of us left. I can't believe the little sneak tried to murder us." We look at the door to the room that Octavian died in. "I can't believe I trusted him." He buries his face in his hands. "You guys could have died, and it would have been all my fault."

"Luis, give it up," Sara snaps, her voice full of weariness and tension. "He's gone and we're all alive. We're safe- safer, anyway- now."

"You were right, Sara. We never should have trusted him." After that the boy stops talking about our dead ally. He sits in misery for a few moments while a dark cloud seems to descend on us, and then he coughs.

"Are you okay?" Sara bursts out. Luis tries to nod but he's set upon by another round of hacking coughs. "Apparently not… DID YOU BREATHE IN THE MIST?" Luis manages a shrug. She looks at me with panicked eyes. "Laken, he's not all right." I bite my lip- at this rate it'll be chewed to shreds. I don't know what to do for him! _Oh, quit fighting me. You need me out there; you don't deserve to see all this!_

Luis rubs at his back and winces. "Man, now it hurts where the psycho chick from Six knifed me."

"Oh, forget it. Did you breathe in any of the gas?"

"Maybe, maybe not. I was sort of focused on trying to save an ally, you know."

"One of these days your loyalty is gonna get you murdered, you know that?"

"Whatever. But not in this alliance." I grin at his nonchalant comment. Even with the death of Octavian and his almost-betrayal, we're still all friends. Luis and Sara and I, we're still allies. Octavian didn't ruin our trust of each other.

Sara rolls her eyes and turns her attention to me. "Hey, Laken, if Octavian turned out to be a little sneaky traitor idiot, maybe he was wrong about your throat. Maybe you were just shocked mute!" I hope so! _Me too! _"Anyway we need to change the bandage. Come on over!" I happily trot over to the older girl and allow her to unwrap the dirty wrappings. "Ew." Luis slinks back, avoiding the sight of my neck.

"Is she okay, Sara?" he asks.

"It's not infected or anything, but it's sure deep. And it's raw still." She covers up the wound with a fresh pad of gauze and more bandages. "Laken, do you feel like you're in shock?" I shake my head. "Will you try and talk for us?"

I attempt to say 'yeah, sure I will,' but nothing comes out and a dull ache erupts in my throat. I frown and try again. Still nothing. My heart skips a beat and my stomach churns. I can't speak, no matter how hard I try. Finally, when the pain reaches a sharp stinging throb, I stop. With tears welling up in my eyes, I give up.

Sara hangs her head- Luis doesn't show any reaction- and sighs. "Well, I guess we're communicating by signal now, aren't we?" I nod sadly. _Almost… let… the… barrier… down_!

"We should move again." Luis almost barks. His attempt to take our minds off my lack of speech is only slightly obvious. "Either back to the rubber rooms or down to the first ward floor." Sara agrees and begins shoving our remaining food supplies and weapons in the packs. I cross my arms. _Really? Well, it might be easier for me to take over then_. Luis and Sara finish cleaning up and they step towards the door.

"Laken? C'mon!" I shake my head. "Oh, not now, we've got to get moving!" I remain adamant. I don't want to endanger them. If we run into trouble I won't be able to call out or anything. I'll be deadweight. I can't hinder my friends. "Laken, please!" Sara begs for me to stay, but I refuse.

"Sara, we've got to go." Luis nods to me. "It's her choice, and we can't make her do anything. And Laken- if we meet again, truce?" I smile sadly and nod. _Finally_! Luis tosses me my hatchet and a knife and even a pack half-filled with food. Sara hugs me and says goodbye.

When they leave the room and their footsteps recede into the distance, my mind goes hyperactive. What is going on? I feel so alone all of a sudden. But I can't go back to them, I can't. I'm slipping, fading…

I stretch my long, lanky arms and admire the light copper skin that I've stepped into. Laken doesn't know, but she was stressing out just enough for me to arrive. And now I'm here, I'll keep her safe like I always have.

This is a strange place. I mean, I had access to the information in the back of her mind, but now that I get a chance to actually see the arena without Laken freaking out, it only reminds me of the room where I first arrived. The place where her mother- my mother- died. Look at that star whale! It's a gorgeous specimen!

No. No time for exploration. This is serious. I have to keep Laken safe and none of the fey ones seem to take notice of me. I pick up the supplies and laugh, long and crazy, in my mind. Even I can't speak, now. Too bad.

I guess I'll have to be truly serious in the arena. Laken's fear is the strongest emotion right now and that's not something I can ignore.

DISTRICT TWO MALE: GRAY TANNER

"Flavia, we all know you wanted to hunt today. Will you just give it up already? It's past noon." Camilla tries once again to calm my district partner.

"There have already been TWO cannons!" she screeches in reply. Camilla slings an arm over the other girl's shoulders and directs her to a corner. She's not really trying to be discreet, but maybe she can fool Flavia. We can all hear her 'whispering' about how the boy from Ten will still be there when Flavia takes to the corridors again. The shorter girl shakes back her blond hair and refuses to accept Camilla's theory. "I just KNOW he's dead! And I never got to kill him!"

"Flavia," Athena growls from the other corner where she's sharpening Adrian's remaining swords, "Quit yelling. You'll bring your concussion back on."

"Shut up! I'm fine; you just want me to stop voicing my opinion! DICTATOR!" Athena rolls her eyes but tightens her grip on the sword.

I stand. "Flavia, your head might be fine, but mine isn't." I motion to the huge purple bruise I got in the bloodbath. "If you haven't noticed, it's bright purple and spreads over half my scalp." I feel Alex shaking with laughter from his spot beside me. Camilla goes to stand beside Athena. Why couldn't I have had one of them for my district partner? Not that I'd wish Flavia on Alex, but Camilla and Athena are pretty similar. Certainly not in looks, although they're both tall- taller than everyone but Alex, at least in this alliance. Athena's dark-skinned and regal while Camilla has light skin and long blond hair. They still could be twins.

"Oh…" Flavia can't come back with any form of sharp retort fast enough, so she remains quiet. Finally!

"Nice one, Gray," Alex whispers.

"Thanks, man."

I brush off my white pants and glance outside to the Cornucopia. Nothing new, although that annoying broken clock reads about five o'clock now. I sigh and retreat to my own little area. We've set up the little office area so we each have our own personal space. Athena and Flavia, being our leaders, are nearest the door, and the rest of us are spread throughout the room. We have a stash of food in the very back. There's a large bare space in the middle, which is our meeting space and sort of 'common room'.

"So, what now?" Alex asks Athena.

"I don't know, besides hunting there's not much to do," she shoots Flavia one of _those_ looks, "And we're NOT hunting. Anyone BESIDES Flavia have any ideas?"

"It's not like my idea of fun is applicable," Alex says good-humoredly, "Since I doubt any of you have much of _Midsummer Night's Dream_ memorized."

"Do they fight much in these plays of yours, Alex?" I ask. His eyes light up.

"Oh, yeah! There are some awesome fight scenes and death scenes." He starts to continue but Camilla cuts him off. I bet she heard plenty of this stuff on the train.

"Well then, maybe we can spar and Alex, you can be content to pretend that we're acting out your Shakespeare stuff." Athena grins and even Flavia perks up.

"Great idea!" I say.

"Well, I got it from your question about fights, so no biggie." She brushes off my compliment. Oh well.

"So thank Gray for any bruises we get right now!" Alex cheers. Everyone laughs.

"Well, I think the boys should fight first," Athena suggests drily, "Since all the actors back then were guys. Hey, don't look at me like that! I've done my research at school… sometimes!" I shrug and pick up my sword. Athena tosses Adrian's old blade to Alex.

"Fight! Fight! Fight!" The girls push us to the middle of the circle and start up a chant. My cheeks begin to redden. I don't want to show them how bad of a fighter I am, especially not against my friend. Alex waits for me to strike, so I lunge forward, but he parries and flicks his blade in my direction. No! He wouldn't!

I bring my sword up hopelessly and wait for the sting of the sword to end my life. Then I feel a clang that jars my arm and blink in surprise. How could I be so thick? Stage fighting, of course! It doesn't matter what stupid things I do, it's all for fun. We go back and forth for a bit while the girls cheer us on, until the familiar feeling of fatigue starts to emerge in my plays. After a particularly sloppy backstroke, I get serious. A single hard strike and Alex falls backwards. "Whoa!" I bring the tip of my blade to his throat. "Ha! I surrender!" He pushes the sword aside and stands up.

"Take a bow, you fools!" Camilla eggs us on and we oblige. My perfectionism is quieted. I defeated my friend! Even if it was a fake fight, it was sparring nonetheless.

"Our turn!" Athena and Camilla jump up and suddenly the middle of the floor is a whirl of extremely fast strokes and parries. I can barely see the swords and I get concerned. After the two became friends… it looks like they're trying to hurt each other! Only the laughing expressions on their faces keep my fear from rising. Eventually they just get tired- they're pretty evenly matched- and they sit down, giggling. Flavia steps to the middle of the circle.

"Well then? Choose your opponent!" She turns to examine us all.

"Athena." Our leader's face is shadowed by premonition for a moment, but she steps forward.

"Well, Flavia? Where's your sword?"

"I'll use my knives." And out of nowhere, a blade zings towards Athena's face. She blocks it easily and it clatters to the floor. Flavia quickly rearranges her expression into a lighthearted, joking look.

"I say we stop sparring," I suggest hurriedly. "Everyone- weapons down." Slowly, reluctantly, Flavia sets away her knives. Athena sends her saber skidding across the floor. Maybe sparring wasn't such a good idea after all.

* * *

**This was a difficult chapter to write for me... I really miss both of these guys already. :(**

**OCTAVIAN AMOROUS: ****"But O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes." -****William Shakespeare**

**CENIA TRALLON: "Character is much easier kept than recovered." -Thomas Paine**

**CURRENT STANDINGS:**

**Careers: F1 Athena Monroe, F2 Flavia Baxter, M2 Gray Tanner, F4 Camilla Thyra, M4 Alex Isis**

**A1: M3 Newt Hillen, M6 Chandler Mathews**

**A2: F12 Sara Ross, M12 Luis Thomsen**

**Loners: F5 Delany Lavis, F7 Laken Marx, M9 Alec Ryans, M10 Blue Anston, F11 Bay Farris**

**Updates could start getting slower after the next chapter since I start school next week. :/**

**Tell me what you thought! :)**


	24. Camilla Breaks the Floor & Other Stories

**Goodness, it's been a while, hasn't it? Sorry, dear readers. :/ School and all that.**

**I've decided to call my loyal readers/reviewers 'vultures'. :3**

**And a fair chunk of people wanted descriptions- they're very basic, but they should help:**

**Athena- dark skin, tall, regal, dark hair, black eyes  
Flavia- blond hair, blue eyes, short-ish, sunburned  
Gray- wiry, pale, brown hair and eyes  
Newt- pale, frail, green eyes and brown hair  
Camilla- long sandy hair, brown eyes, light copper skin, tall  
Alex- tall, curly blond hair, sea-green eyes, scar on face, tan  
Delany- light-skinned, hazel eyes, light brown hair, small  
Chandler- average sized, blue eyes and blond hair  
Laken- copper skin, dark hair, dark brown eyes, gangly  
Alec- tall and muscular, copper skin, black hair and eyes  
Blue- lean, blue eyes, chestnut hair, light skin  
Bay- petite, black hair, dark eyes and skin  
Sara- average sized and slim, gray eyes, dirty blond hair, light skin  
Luis- olive skin, average size, blue eyes and black hair**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Hunger Games, Shakespeare, or Doctor Who (if you catch the reference)**

**This is the end of day 3 and then Day Four in its entirety. Next up will be day 5. Hopefully this is the only time I do a whole day in one chapter!**

* * *

DISTRICT TWO FEMALE: FLAVIA BAXTER

After the incident with my knives and Athena's face, I retreat to my little area and stare out the door. I feel like if they see my face I'll be given away as guilty. It was no joke. They're all idiots for even thinking it was. But it's a good thing they're dumb- I have a whole pack of morons to control and nobody who is brave enough to kill me. I can hear Gray and Alex joking and laughing on the other side of the room, a perfect example of the Careers' idiocy. Everyone knows you don't make friends in the Games. Friends get you killed.

Camilla and Athena sicken me. Always taking the same side of an argument, matching skills, irritatingly noble, and of course Athena is our 'leader'. Ha! As if she could lead a Career pack to victory. We didn't even hunt today. It's starting to get dark outside- a whole day wasted with pointless sparring and sitting around and two cannons went off. Two! If Athena didn't let us go hunting and someone else killed my prey, I will kill Athena. A slow, painful death. If Blue died, I won't need this dumb, slow alliance anymore. I probably have more courage than all of them combined- in my little finger.

"Hey, Flavia, it's getting really late. You want something to eat?" I whirl around to see Alex looking at me. The rest of them are sitting together, wolfing down cheese sandwiches. The boy from Four offers me one, faintly grinning as he does so. The scar on his cheek makes the smile lopsided.

The only thing I can think of is that more people than just Alex will have ruined faces before they die.

"Sure, Four, I'll take it." I snatch the sandwich and turn back to stare at the Cornucopia. I might actually miss Alex a little bit when he dies. I mean, he hates me the least and he's more intelligent that many of the others. He hasn't taken up arms against me- he still remains on my good side. But he'll die and I won't hesitate to kill him. Hmph. District Four is like the baby of our pack- the weak links. Actually, this year Gray is the weak one. He's probably the stupidest of us all. Why did I have to get stuck with the weakling idiot? I remember that he was one of those kids who trained all the time with Granite Tanner. He wasn't the best, that's for sure. Granite would have done better than Gray.

It doesn't matter. I'll kill Athena, Camilla, and Gray very painfully if the boy from Ten died today. Alex's death will be fast, in a way of respect.

The lights on the ceiling flicker and the tiles shimmer. Yes, now is the moment of truth. I will discover who died this day, and make my move. Here in the dark no one will be able to react quickly to the death. I finger my longest knife, preparing to make my move. The Capitol seal is projected onto the makeshift screen, and the anthem plays. It's the only piece of official music left in the whole of Panem; the rest of music is rough or ancient- like the tunes beggars play for money on the streets.

My allies cheer as the first face flickers onscreen. The sickly boy from Five- Octavian. If he hadn't been one of the kids who ran fast away from the bloodbath, he would have been one of the first ones to die. He had no chance of winning with his coughing and his stutter. He looked shifty but he was in no way strong enough to go home.

The boy disappears and the first specks of the next picture appear on the ceiling. I'm almost disappointed when a girl is shown. 'SARRACENIA TRALLON, DISTRICT NINE' reads the caption. The Careers snicker and I silently set down my blade.

"I guess Alec is on his own now!" Camilla crows.

"Drunkard will be an easy catch without his little friend to help him now!" I join in with the revelry. Athena might still be alive, but so is Blue Anston. Ripe for the killing, both of them. Prey for me. Bodies under my blade.

Add their names onto Flavia Baxter's kill list. I chuckle darkly.

"Flavia? Was that you?" Gray asks. I swear under my breath and sort of just sit there smiling faintly until my district partner shrugs and turns away.

"All right, everyone!" Athena leaps up and cracks her knuckles, "Night watches!" I reluctantly stand as well and the others watch us carefully. "Tonight we go in shifts of two, so everyone will have double the time, but someone else awake as well. If you remember- like you should- this is what we chose to do once we almost got to the halfway point of tributes." We murmur. I remember that we decided this so that 'a single watcher will not break the alliance'. "And are there any volunteers?" I raise my hand. Athena seems a little nervous at first- like she should well be- until Camilla jumps up. The other two girls share a nod and Athena relaxes.

"I'll go the last one alone," she says, "You all know I have no cause to break the alliance I lead." The boys high-five and everyone but Camilla and me goes to their corners. Everything is quiet and dark.

"Well, where to?" The other girl motions to the Cornucopia and we silently traverse the few yards to the dimly glinting golden horn. She sits down on the side facing our little room, and I plunk myself down where she can't see me. I know why she volunteered to take first watch with me. She wants to keep her little friend safe. Tonight's not the night, Camilla. And anyway, I could beat her in a fight any day.

As I brood over the disloyal nature of my allies my eyes begin to shut.

DISTRICT TWELVE FEMALE: SARA ROSS

A new morning, so unlike the last when I awoke to a room filling with poisonous gas and an ally trying to kill me. Now it's only Luis and I, and he's already awake. He took the last shift of the night watch, and now he sees me wake up.

"Sort of a better start to a day in the arena, don't you think?" he says, only half jokingly. I grin and nod, accepting the packet of fruit he tosses as me.

"How much is there?" I query.

"If we ration like this," he begins, tearing open another fruit package for himself, "Just enough for two days. And we need water soon- we've only got half a bottle left, Laken took the rest."

"We're in a hospital room," I say, "The Capitol would want to make it authentic, right? We know the toilets flush. The sinks should have something. But we shouldn't. What if they're poisoned?"

"I'll risk it, if anything even comes out," Luis growls, "They want us to kill each other, not die by some agent in the water sources." I nod, even though my stomach is churning, and we duck into the little bathroom. A toilet and a sink.

"You'd think they have sinks in the normal rooms, too," I mutter, "They want the doctors to have easy access to washbasins, don't they?"

"Maybe they can't make it too realistic," my ally suggests, "Otherwise they would have given us a kitchen and a good stash of hospital food, not this dried stuff." We both snicker.

"Never mind that right now, let's try the sink." I reach for the little handle and yank it forwards. A jet of water shoots out.

"Yeah!" Luis shouts and hurriedly sticks the half-empty canteen we have under the stream. I ready the three empty bottles we have for filling. Then he jerks his hand back suddenly. "Sara… Sara what is that?" The water has tinted green where it once was clear, both in the sink and our bottle.

"They're not going to give us free water all the time."

"But… it just stopped and then started again green!"

"They must have different reservoirs or something. That green stuff isn't fit to drink. The clear should be." We glance at our tainted bottle and Luis dumps it unceremoniously down the drain. "I don't think we should keep that bottle. It's going to have residue from the green stuff." He grimaces for a moment, but then shrugs and tosses the bottle into the corner. The green poison shuts off and clear water trickles through the chrome faucet.

"Wait a second to let any green stuff get washed out." I nod and count to five in my head before sticking a different container under the cold stream. It's almost a third of the way filled when the water clicks off. I barely manage to pull away the bottle before poison again splashes out into the sink. "Nice move," Luis jokes, his blue eyes glinting with humor. I manage a faint smile, but I'm too focused on the sink to really bother. The approximately thirty seconds the poison takes to run its course are unbearably long, and then I wait for the residue to be swept away before placing the bottle back beneath the stream. Eventually we fill all the containers we have left and shut off the sink.

"So, what now?" I ask, rubbing my arms. It's a little chilly in here. Luis shrugs.

"The Careers will be hunting today, and we will still be a target. And Laken's out there alone now, she won't be their focus. We, on the other hand, have to keep a low profile. I already killed one of them."

"What's it like?"

"What?"

"Murder. What does it feel like?" It's not a 'Flavia' question, or any form of gossip. I just want to know.

"Worse than you can imagine. It hurts so badly, to think that you've killed another person, one with dreams and feelings and a family they want to return home to."

"A little cliché, there, Luis."

"It's the truth!" He gets frustrated and flustered.

"All right! All right! I was expecting a different answer from a tribute than the answer all the victors give." He calms down.

"It still is the answer. My answer and any sane person's answer. If we're sane at all anymore." I bite my lip. My district partner has never been the most expressive of people, and I might not even know if he loses it. At this rate, he may have lost it already. Yesterday's events could have driven anyone insane. I suppose I'm lucky that it hasn't been me. Yet. "And it could be the victor's answer." He glances at his axe as the room goes totally silent. The icy tension seizes its opportunity and flowers between us. I see his hand moving and faster than I can realize what's happening I reach out and slap him across the face.

"Luis! Stop it!" He shakes his head in dismay and looks at me with fear in his eyes. Crazy people feel no fear. He's still here, Luis Thomsen isn't gone yet. He's just afraid and anxious, like me.

"Sara! Sara, I don't know what's going on. I feel so different, I don't know myself anymore. Sara, what's happening?" I grab his hand and squeeze it, like I'm tethering him to reality.

"Luis… the Games. You're in the Games. You need to accept that. You've killed a boy. Your ally tried to kill you. I'm here. District Twelve is counting on us. Come on, you'll be fine. It's just a shock right now." Of course it's much more than that, but he'll freak again if he doesn't take it slow. I don't quite believe it myself, but I'm sure I'll end up having my moment like this. I gulp at the thought, but push it to the back of my mind.

"Sara, we need to get home."

DISTRICT FOUR FEMALE: CAMILLA THYRA

"Camilla!" Athena calls, snapping me out of a dream featuring Skyford and the other bloodbath tributes returning for revenge, "Camilla, we're hunting today!" Flavia, who is sitting next to me, grins her evil smile and I try to scoot closer to Alex without her noticing. It doesn't work- her smile only grows. I sigh and focus on Athena.

"All right then, who's going where?"

"Alex is staying here." My district partner nods- looking relieved at the assignment, we'll have to see about that later. "Flavia, the bottom floor is all yours."

"Good. Expect cannons today, everyone!" We all feebly murmur for a minute, faking our admiration, and Flavia stalks off with her blades ready to go.

"Well, one out, three to go. Gray, stick with me. We'll start at the top and work our way down. Camilla, do you think you can take some on your own this time?"

"Yeah, sure. Would it work if I started on Floor 4? That way, you guys can come and find me when you've done two floors, instead of trying to do three or more." Athena nods and then glances towards the far door. It slams shut behind Flavia as the girl from Two heads towards the basement.

"All right. Do we really want to kill today?" Gray and I share a look and then shake our heads. Athena smiles ruefully. "Me neither. If you find anyone, leave them alone. Only attack if they make the first move." I agree and we set off, armed to the teeth but unprepared to use the weapons.

"Have fun, guys!" Alex calls from behind us. "Fight to the last gasp!" I turn around and stick tongue out at him, to which he laughs.

"See ya!" Gray calls.

We hurry to the staircase and close the door behind us. The only sound is the eerie echo of our footsteps, and then I hear it. The echo is a little bit off every few steps. It's not an echo. We have a little shadow.

"Hey guys, have you ever had that feeling that someone's watching you?" Gray and Athena nod.

"And now that you mention it, I have it right now." Gray shivers.

"I suggest looking in the place you don't want to look, where you never want to look. Look behind you. The corner of your eye." Athena says, a small smile on her face. I slowly turn and just for a moment, I see a small figure darting down the stairs into a different room. "Right, then- keep on walking?" Gray hops from foot to foot nervously, but we nudge him forward and keep moving up.

Finally, I stop and slip onto the fourth floor, leaving my allies to continue walking. Scout and don't kill. Scout and don't kill. I hang a sharp left into the room adjacent to the staircase.

Just my luck. Two tributes are sitting there on the floor, pulling pieces of beef jerky out of a can and eating them. I try and back away slowly, but one of the boys has noticed me and now he leaps to his feet, shouting.

"Newt! Newt! She's one of the Careers!" The empty jerky can comes flying at me and I deflect it. "She killed the boy from Eleven! She's a murderer!" The anger wells up inside me- I'm not a murderer! I won't hurt them!- and sudden my non-murderer thoughts turn into a sort of paradox. I want to kill the boy for calling me a killer. I roar and charge them with my trident raised, but the boy from Three dives and knocks his younger ally to the ground, saving both their lives. They scramble to their feet, retrieving knives and a small sword from the ground. I pull out a long dagger and grasp my trident so that my knuckles turn white.

"Chandler! Run!" Newt calls to his ally and runs at me. He is able to get in close enough for my trident to be useless and I have to parry his stab with my dirk. I swing my trident around and hit the boy from Six in the stomach. He doubles over and staggers back into my line of vision. Newt's charging again, trying to keep me from killing both of them- smart boy, he's older, I would have gone for him first anyway. He's stronger than his skinny little frame gives away, too. Certainly not powerful, but not a total shrimp either. He's already tiring out, though.

I catch his thumb with the handle of my blade and he drops his knife like it's white hot. The only thing he can do now is scramble backwards and cradle his injured hand. I've got him now. In my peripheral vision I see Chandler struggling to his feet, but he's only thirteen. He's not a thre-

I howl as a blade drives itself deep into my upper arm; the trident slams into the ground inches from Newt's neck. Chandler moves faster than I thought, apparently, and he's hurt me badly. I grab my trident and begin a hasty retreat. I wildly flail my trident in the boy from Six's direction, hear a loud cry, and run from the room. In the hallway I tear off a long strip of cloth from the bottom of my white shirt and tie it as tight as I can. A makeshift tourniquet, yes, but it will hold until I return to the Career 'camp'. But I truly am a Career at heart, and I won't return until my search is thoroughly finished.

Chandler and Newt do not emerge from the ward room they chased me from. Good. I don't see any other tributes running into the hall due to the noise they heard, either, so I heave a sigh and duck into the ward room across from the two boys. I need a bit of a rest to let my arm stop bleeding so heavily.

DISTRICT THREE MALE: NEWT HILLEN

"I don't think she's coming back," says Chandler, shutting the door behind him. The kid's white as a sheet and visibly trembling.

"Are you all right?"

"Well, I'm all here. I don't think I could ask for much more at this point."

"Thanks for saving me. You did great."

"We're allies. It's what we do."

"We're friends, too, you know." He nods. "Are you injured at all?"

"I don't think so, just had the wind knocked out of me." Chandler brushes off the hard hits he received to the gut; although I notice his hands hover protectively near his stomach. If he does end up with internal injuries, I won't be exactly surprised. Upset, yes, but not surprised. "How about you?"

"Shaken up a bit, but fine." I clench my fists to hide the slight quiver I still have from being so frightened. I busy myself cleaning up the remains of our breakfast and putting them back into our pack.

"I can't believe we made it. I watched that girl kill a boy my age," Chandler mutters, "and now we defeated her." I grin and begin to relax a little bit.

"We're young and we may be weak, but we're smart. And that's what matters right now. And- hey! Look at that!" Chandler and I may be very intelligent, but certain things are very distracting. Like holes in the floor that are sort of shooting up sparks every so often. I dash to the hole that was created by Camilla's trident and peer into the small aperture.

"She… broke the floor…" I can only agree with my ally. Indeed, Camilla Thyra broke the floor. I grimace as a broken wire sputters out its last sparks. The three main holes where the prongs of the weapon entered the floor are just the beginning of the damage- a web of cracks spreads from the punctures and loosens several tiles. I catch a glimpse of something brightly colored just beneath the edge of a hole and get even more interested.

"Chandler, help me pry these tiles up." The younger boy obliges and together we work several chunks of floor from their positions, clearing a section of open wires and stuff about a square meter in size. "Wow. Give me your knife." I take the blade and use to lever another tile from its place, revealing a net of wires and gears and little microchips.

"This place is seriously loaded with technology," my ally says in wonder.

"Strange stuff, too." I recognize some of the wiring from explosives built in the factories near my house. I always thought explosives were a bit of a strange thing to have in Three, but then they told us in school that we manufacture new lines of detonators, not the widely-made bombs built in the Capitol. But why would a building have bomb wiring inside of it? "Chandler… put your ear on the floor." He does so hesitantly.

"I hear… a tapping noise… like a clock, maybe." I rush over to the edge of the tile and pry it up as fast as I can, chipping our knife in the process. A small screen sits just under the tile, and it reads 3:01:43:00. 3:01:42:59. It keeps ticking down. Suddenly it's hard to breathe.

Days, hours, minutes, seconds. The time we have left. "Newt? What's wrong?"

"Chandler… in three days the arena is gonna blow up." To his credit, he doesn't freak out. He doesn't even seem fazed.

All he does is nod and say, "Great. Three days. Is it just me, or does that number seem pulled out of nowhere? And we should find a way to get out of here, because there's no way a victor will be decided by then." However, we both lose it right then.

"Not a very random number at all, actually." A soft, mournful voice comes from behind us, "If you noticed at all, the Careers keep talking about the clock on the main floor that keeps counting down. I saw it at the bloodbath- it read seven o'clock then. They gave us a week." I whirl around faster than I've ever moved before. A dark-skinned girl sits on the gurney, swinging her legs and smiling at us. District Eleven, Bay Farris, age fourteen. Chandler gapes at her in surprise.

"How… what… when… you… right there!" She tilts her head to one side for a moment.

"I think you won't kill me right now, so I'll explain. I'm alone, I was trailing the Careers- they almost caught me, actually- and I followed Camilla. And, if I may- nice work, Chandler!" Bay beams at my ally kindly and he blushes. This is just ratcheting up the awkwardness now, isn't it? I begin to turn pink as well. Bay chatters on about the clock or whatever and Chandler and I just keep looking at the ground. "Hey, Newt, what's in your hair?" My hand shoots up to my head and I remember my token- Laya's hair clip.

"Oh… my token… from a friend."

"A girl?" I nod. "Ooh, what was she like?" I'm absolutely sure I'm tomato red right now.

"Laya… really nice… she liked me…"

"Well, I'm sure she wants you to get back home to her." Bay's smile grows sad for a moment, but then, out of nowhere, she hugs me tightly. And then Chandler gets hugged, too, and I think he's about to snap. The look of total panic on his face… I mean, I might have looked like that too, but it's amusing when it happens to other people. The fourteen-year-old girl steps back and surveys us again. "Nice to meet you guys, I've got to go now!" she says brightly.

"Nope. You heard about the explosives. We want to get as many people as possible with that while we escape. You're staying with us now." I feel bad about the others who will never hear about the explosion, but I want to get home.

And Chandler is the one who gives me the death stare. Bay seems fine with having allies, but for us boys, a girl in the group could get really weird.

DISTRICT FIVE FEMALE: DELANY LAVIS

Early afternoon and still no cannons. No Careers, no pain- thanks to the medicine Bay left for me and the sponsor's leg brace- and no cannons. All in all, a relatively nice day in the Hunger Games.

Who am I fooling? It's the arena and I'm stuck in it with a broken leg. I make a face and pull myself to a standing position using the hospital bed I'm still sitting next to. I got up and limped around some yesterday until my leg got used to the brace, but I ended up in the same spot I've been in since I dragged myself away from the bloodbath.

I heave a sigh as I realize my legs are asleep. I can't feel anything below my waist at all. Sitting on the bed, I wiggle my feet around until they start tingling, and then I walk a few laps around the room. On this bad of a break with such meager first aid, I don't want to do anything that has the slightest possibility of worsening the injury, but walking is sort of a necessity in the Games. I finish a sixth lap and collapse onto the gurney.

Who ever thought the Hunger Games would be boring? I wish Bay were still here so we could chat, but it really is better that she's gone. We weren't going to be any benefit to each other.

Footsteps outside. Maybe I spoke too soon, because I'm not bored anymore! The voices are loud and boisterous. Careers. Oh crap! I can't move- tired out and in pain- and I can't defend myself. Tears slip from my eyes and the doorknob turns.

"Hey!" A boy speaks. "Who are you?" could they not be Career? Who, then, to speak so friendly in this place? I look up, brushing the tears from my eyelashes. Nope, they're Careers. Girls from One and Four and the boy from Two. What the crap is going on?

"Get out of here!" I holler, "I have a weapon!"

"You do realize that won't help, right?" Athena says dryly, waggling a sword in my direction.

"Don't worry, District Five, we won't hurt you." The boy from Two is cheery. "We're not killing people today!"

"My name is Delany," I hiss.

"Well, Delany, we won't hurt you. Looks like someone did, though. What happened to your leg?" Athena is lighthearted despite the weapons in her hands.

"Your district partner." She winces.

"Nice brace, though," Camilla notes, "Sponsor?" I nod. She plops herself down beside me and pokes my leg.

"Ouch! What the crap, woman?" She rolls her eyes.

"It's a pretty bad break." She glances at Athena and winks. "Courtesy of District One, of course." I ignore her quip, as does Athena.

"Anyway, aren't there more of you? I know the famous Pack isn't already down to three."

"Of course we aren't. Flavia's alone and Alex stayed behind." Gray is indignant at the thought of his alliance seeming weak.

"And I suspect if you see me again you'll kill me?"

"Yeah. Even if we don't feel like it, the Capitol rules and they want us to. I suggest running as fast as you can with that bad leg."

"And what happened to you guys being ruthless killers?" They all grin at the same time.

"Today's our own personal rebellion. The Games… they aren't exactly what we were expecting. And we've got Flavia, who is quite possibly the most sadistic person ever in the Games. We're sort of doing this to see what she does. Let her kill, we're fine with sitting back and letting her do all the work." Yep. That's the mentality I'm used to out of these guys.

Camilla is still checking out my wound with a genuinely concerned attitude. "Hey, Fish Girl, why don't you examine your own gashes? There's a real nice one on your arm. Where'd you get it?"

"If you must know, fighting off an alliance. Boy from Six tried to kill me and failed."

"Boy from Six? The youngest tribute left? Maybe the Pack isn't all it's cracked up to be this year!" Camilla's brown eyes turn flinty.

"Watch it, Five. I've killed before."

"If you don't like talking to me, then leave."

"That's a pretty good idea," Athena looks at me shrewdly and goes to pat her ally on the back. "You should really get that arm checked out." Camilla nods and turns to go, followed by Gray and then Athena.

"And to you I suggest finding another hiding place," the Career leader says, "Cami's having a hard time dealing with her kills. She's snappy."

That's how you know if someone is a Career. They define 'snappy' as 'ready to kill'.

That's my cue to start playing hide-and-seek.

DISTRICT FOUR MALE: ALEX ISIS

"Wow, Camilla, you really managed to tear this up." I wrap the bandages around the deep cut in her shoulder as Athena holds her still. I've already been warned not to mention the tribute who managed to wound my district partner. Gray looks on, worried. "Can we have a conversation going, here? It'll take her mind off the wound."

"You do realize I hear everything you say," a cranky Camilla mutters. I pat her on the head and continue working.

"We saw Flavia's quarry." Athena starts off so nonchalantly it takes a while for the news to sink in.

"You what?"

"Blue Anston. We saw him. Floor five, at the very end of the hallway. It was too much fun to leave him there, knowing how mad Flavia would be if she knew and all."

"Did he see you?"

"No, he was asleep, but Gray and I almost woke him up with our laughter when we realized who he was."

"That's awesome. Do we have tabs on everyone now?"

"Just about. We didn't see Twelve, Alec or the girl from Eleven. We met Merry, though!"

"That Laken girl's other self?" Gray nods.

"She was totally insane. She acted like she was some sort of protector for Laken."

CRASH! The staircase door slams shut and a white-faced Flavia bursts into the lobby, effectively interrupting the conversation. I twitch and accidentally pull the bandages really tight around Camilla's arm. It works, though, and I tie the thing off as my ally cusses me out.

"Flavia, you look like you've seen a ghost!" Gray cries as his district partner runs toward us at full speed. She gasps for breath when she stops running just inside the doorway of our little room and nods hurriedly. Gray pales too, if only slightly.

Is all of District Two superstitious?

"Last… room…" she manages to squeak. I bite my lip and force down a smile. This is justice, watching the most terrifying person in the arena be afraid. Not kind thoughts, but they are fairly true.

"Flavia, tell us! What happened?" Athena isn't so nice anymore- she demands information of her deputy.

"Last… room… basement…"

"We get it! What happened?" Camilla joins in, roaring at the other girl. Nobody is in a good mood anymore.

"Muttation…"

"Yes, and?"

"Surgery…" Athena frowns and opens her mouth again, but I clap my hand over her mouth.

"Calm down, guys! Can't you see she's freaking out? All right, Flavia, what's going on? Yeah, the first floor is surgery. Mutt, surgery, basement, last room. What are you trying to say?"

"Mutt says… it's a doctor… wants… surgery… wants… revenge… tried it… on me. Last room. First floor. Basement." She seems to regain her breath, color, and dignity in one go and takes a deep, shaky breath.

"Well, there you go, guys. There's a surgeon mutt down there. What did it look like?"

"Dunno… shadows… I ran."

"Yeah, she ran." Athena said, "And I would have too." She glares at all of us, daring someone to disagree. Flavia's calm enough now to interrogate us.

"Did you guys find anyone? There were no cannons."

"We found some." Her voice goes up a few notes, a sure sign of falsification. Athena's making something up, "Gray and I were about to take on Alec when we heard Camilla call for help. She got hurt by an alliance, but fought her way out, injuring all of her opponents, and we searched the last remaining floor, which was empty, after that. We weren't out for very long."

When, in reality, Camilla got cut up by a thirteen year old, we found tons of people but didn't fight, and they got here just a few minutes before Flavia herself. The girl from Two seems to suspect something.

"Is anyone hungry? After a full day of fighting and running like today, I'm starved!" Gray comes to the rescue with an off-topic remark.

"Agreed!" I drag him over to the food stashes. "Nice save, buddy." He gives me a confused look as he picks up a box of crackers.

"What? I was just hungry." I laugh and wave off his sudden barrage of 'What did I do? What did I miss' questions. This alliance is just dysfunctional.

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**Hope you liked it! I had writer's block towards the end, which is part of why it was a while in being published. :/ So, a pretty big plot twist, huh? MUAHAHAHA! And I bet you want to know more about the surgery level now, don't you? Don't worry, I don't introduce things and then let them sit there awkwardly. :)**

**No quotes this time! Yay!**

**CURRENT STANDINGS:**

**Careers: F1 Athena Monroe, F2 Flavia Baxter, M2 Gray Tanner, F4 Camilla Thyra, M4 Alex Isis**

**A1: M3 Newt Hillen, M6 Chandler Mathews, F11 Bay Farris**

**A2: F12 Sara Ross, M12 Luis Thomsen**

**Loners: F5 Delany Lavis, F7 Laken Marx, M9 Alec Ryans, M10 Blue Anston**

**Tell me what you thought, my vultures! (and others)**


	25. The Bloody Red Queen

**I would have had this out much earlier, but... the flu. And an insane biology teacher who gives us way too much work. Sorry, my vultures! **

**R&R!**

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DISTRICT NINE MALE: ALEC RYANS

It's pretty pitiful, the way I must look to the people of Panem. A feeble drunkard, once the most powerful tribute in the arena and one of the most dangerous in his home district, curled up in the corner of a room just begging for death. Mewling in pain and waiting for a weaker tribute to finish him off. Yeah, right, victor. I'm destined to go home in a box. Not that home was anything special, really. The actual quality of living for me has improved in the arena. In any case, I'm not who Cenia thought I was. I'm just another tribute doomed to die, not a survivor.

Death would be better right now. I can't stand up thanks to my nauseous stomach and uncoordinated shaking muscles. My head pounds and I can barely form thoughts, let alone speak. I've hallucinated, seeing my dead district partner and ally all around me and the little grubs that killed her crawling over the floor of the room. There are sounds and scents, too. Mostly the voices of the other street rats in Nine and the smell of liquor and sweat. Good home-sweet-home sort of things. I'd rather have death than this withdrawal and these Games. So many times I narrowly evaded being killed, just for this. The least honorable murder I could be on the receiving end of- a death in the Games.

Not that I really care, of course. I was fooling myself when I agreed to ally with Cenia. I tricked myself. Because when she died I felt no real pain. I felt nothing at all, just the feeling I'm familiar with. I've seen death before and pain and certainly suffering, and it doesn't faze me anymore. It used to, I remember that. When I was real little, just a kid, in my first few years on the streets. Every scream followed me and every corpse etched its image into my brain. When I was seven an older guy gave me the alcohol and it all went away. At the age of seven I was numb to it all and that was the last time anything ever made me care.

At eight, I'm sure I was hooked. At nine I got into my first real fight. I ended up laying in a back alley unconscious with a broken nose that never healed right, but the older guys taught me and less than a month later I found the other kid again and this time I beat him. I got cocky. I took on bigger and bigger street rats.

When I was ten I killed a man. Second-in-command to one of the smaller gangs in the district. After that I went after bigger and bigger prey. It was a game now, my game. Sort of like these Games but not as Capitolesque. Cruder and not for simple entertainment.

Well, most of them weren't for fun. The guys who taught me how to look after myself were the first targets and then I took out most of my competition.

In retrospect, as I lay here almost immobile, none of it matters. The Capitol never recognized any of it, so why should I even be mentioned in the big book of Panemic existence? I'm in the Hunger Games and right here, right now is what matters. I may have been hot stuff in Nine, but here I'm a victim. Nothing more, nothing less. And it's what you die as that people will remember you as. If I died like I was supposed to at home I would have been remembered. I would have been infamous.

Here I'm a name on the list of the dead. Not a rebel, not a victor, not even a person. A corpse. To the district leaders I'll be a pest happily gotten rid of, but never recorded. Oh no, Panem has no problems like that. It's happy and safe in the districts.

My life won't even register a blip on the radar of existence.

The pounding headache wipes away my thoughts with utmost precision, making sure I feel the entire pain of the withdrawal again. Cenia would have been more than a body. She deserves it. She had a life worth living. I would never admit I envy her for it, thought. Cenia deserved to go home and see her family again. She had a family.

The only memory I have of my family is my mom, a copper-skinned woman, singing me a song in a language I know nothing of. Her dark eyes are soft and kind, with laugh lines at the corners. I don't know anything of my father.

I guess it's nice to know that once upon a time I was loved; it can't help me now and that's what is important. I blink away the memories and try to find something to do that might take my mind off everything that's painful. Deep down, though, I know it won't work. The physical pain is so overwhelming I can barely think and the terrible fatigue and confusion in my mind is so hard to deal with it makes my vision cloud over. And Cenia keeps floating up to the top of the mess of thoughts in my head, like she's haunting me.

_I thought you were a survivor_. Her voice is taunting. Cruel and harsh, it grates in my mind like nails on a chalkboard.

"All right! I admit it! I'm sorry you died!" I howl, clutching my head. The hallucination disappears and I'm left with my nausea and throbbing headache once again in the laboratory. I wouldn't be surprised if someone had heard my cries and is on their way to finish me off right now. I stay as still as I can for a moment, listening for footsteps that never arrive. I don't know if that's good or bad. I mean, I haven't been discovered and therefore won't be murdered yet, but sometimes I think death might be the easiest way out.

DISTRICT SIX MALE: CHANDLER MATHEWS

It's bad enough when you're in a hospital building with a bunch of kids who want to kill you, but when you find out that aforementioned building is going to explode in three days you sort of start panicking. Two days, now. And we continue to panic.

And a girl is now in my alliance. It makes it that much more difficult. Bay is kind and talkative and extremely friendly and I can't even make it five minutes without having to answer one of her questions. And then I stutter and mess up and she just looks at me and I blush and it's this awkward never-ending cycle. Newt has the same issues, I've noticed. I think he's starting to regret taking her in as our ally. I regretted his decision as soon as he made it. Sure, the logic behind it was all well and good, but, you know, the best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry.

"So, Chandler, you told me you had a little sister. What was her name?"

"M-Michelle."

"That's a nice name!" Bay smiles warmly and waits for me to say something else, but I don't and a very awkward silence quickly spreads across the room. I feel like crawling under a rock for a second, until Bay turns her attention to Newt.

"Need any help, Newt?" My original ally shakes his head and remains silent, bent over the exposed wires like he has been for hours now. He woke up in the middle of the night and told me he wanted to try and defuse the bomb. He's been fiddling with the wires forever, and Bay and I can't do anything to help since we haven't learned about the technology of bombs like he has.

"Chandler, come over here." I leap up and the motion makes my sore torso throb again. I have a nice purple bruise- a straight bar across my stomach- where Camilla hit me with her trident. Wheezing, I dash over to Newt and kneel beside him.

"What is it?"

"I think I figured out how to beat the machine on this one."

"Really? That's great!"

"If it works. And it's a two-person job."

"I'll do whatever needs to be done." Bay comes over and looks on the open floor curiously.

"What's going on over here?" Newt and I both clam up pretty quickly.

"We're… um… trying to… er… defuse the bomb," Newt almost whispers.

"That's great! So you finally figured it out, huh? How are you gonna do it?" Bay is fourteen and she has an older boy awkwardized speechless. It would be funny if I got along with her, but I'm just about the same as Newt.

"Just… disconnect those wires," he motions to several of the red cords near the clock that's still ticking down, "And splice them in with those white ones there," he points, "and make some minor adjustments to the network of red wires. It should shut down the detonation sequence for this floor, and we'd have to repeat it on each floor, but it should work." Newt eases into his normal speech pattern slowly.

"Are you sure it would work?" I say, "I mean, fiddling with those wires could result in the arena blowing up sooner."

"I'm sure," my ally says, "I've studied this. In school." I nod and sit back on my heels. I trust Newt.

"And what if something goes wrong?" Bay wants to know, "What if the arena still plans to blow up?" Newt stands up and runs his hand through his hair. He's just taller than Bay, and I'm taller than both of them.

"Then we break out." Bay nods and I smile. That would be pretty cool.

"Let's get started then," I suggest and Newt shoots me a quick grin.

"All right then, Chandler, hold this wire." I carefully take the red wire between my thumb and forefinger as Newt carefully examines the other wires. He selects one other and then slips his knife into the mess of cords. The tension in the room grows steadily as he lays the blade against the wires.

"Get back!" Bay shrieks and hauls both of us away from the hole in the floor just as a crackling sound whizzes through the open floor, leaving a faint scent of ozone hanging in the air.

"How could I have been so dumb?" Newt groans, "Of COURSE the Capitol would have precautions against defusing the bomb!" I sigh. Bay hugs us both, leading to more awkward silence from Newt and me.

"You guys could have died!"

"Thanks, Bay," I manage two words. She smiles briefly and turns expectantly to Newt.

"So now we get to break out?"

"Yeah. We'll have to, because fourteen tributes will not decrease to one in two days." Imminent danger trumps girl problems, I guess.

"So how are we going to do that? If you guys haven't noticed yet, there are sort of bars on all the windows and there are no doors anywhere," I'm starting to worry.

"The bars aren't that thick, we should be able to break through them… eventually." There's a note of fear in Newt's voice. Bay hears it as well.

"Is 'eventually' less than two days?" she asks. Newt considers for a moment and then nods. I walk over to the window in our room, examining the bars. They're flattened and tilted up so we can't see the terrain outside.

"I think we can break these. It'll be slow going though, because it'll be loud and we won't want other people to hear. And there are a bunch of them, and after we break the bars we'll have to shatter the glass. It'll be hard work." Newt nods approvingly and we high-five.

"They'll be weakest in the middle, but we'll need to break them close to the wall so we can fit through the hole."

"Quit talking, Newt, let's get started!"

DISTRICT TEN MALE: BLUE ANSTON

Technically I haven't made it any further than Cordovan yet in the Games, since ten people died in his bloodbath and ten people have died here so far. I have made it longer, though, and that gives me hope. I must win now. I must, for my brother and my family and my district. And to survive, of course. I don't have any food, although I have had water thanks to the freakish poison-water combination sinks. Compared to previous Games we're dying in the lap of luxury. My stomach feels like it's the size and consistency of a walnut, though. Not comfortable at all.

My knees crack as I stand up and stretch. It's getting rather late in the morning, I should definitely get a move on. I always return to this room- the last rubber room on the floor- at night, but during the day I stay on the move so it's harder for people to find me. I can run faster if I'm already nervous, and if I got too used to this place I would relax. So I keep exploring. My feet are really tired when I wake up in the mornings, but it's worth it to still be alive. I'm a pitiful excuse for a human being; I didn't want to live until I got thrown into the arena.

I cautiously step into the corridor and edge past the other doors. I like to hang out on the staircase, where I can hear people coming. Then I just run onto the nearest floor and find a place to hide. There are some pretty good ones- the second room on the right on each of the ward floors has a cabinet that no one ever checks, one of the rubber rooms has an little secret closet- that one's too small to hide in, but if I had supplies I could definitely stash them there.

I fling open the stairwell door and step into the stark platform. The air is a little colder out here and the lights are slightly dimmer. A sudden rumble in my stomach makes me grimace, but there's nothing I can do to help the feeling. I'm not prepared to raid the Career pack.

In the distance, further down the staircase, quiet pattering is suddenly audible. Quick, quiet footsteps, but not quiet enough. Several people, coming up the stairs. I charge up to the door and dive back onto the fifth floor. I need a place to hide, I need a place to hide! Louder, louder, the footsteps sound. Closer and closer. Big people- a threat. I almost groan in fear, but I clench my teeth and slip into a rubber room just as the door to the stairwell creaks open. I hold my breath.

"Nice try." Athena Monroe's voice is cold as she pushes open the door, "Today's a hunting day, a real, good hunting day."

"So we're taking him?" the boy with her says. Alex from Four. Athena sets her jaw and nods; the crack of her knuckles echoes slightly on the padded walls. Nice acoustics.

"C'mon, Blue, your time is up. We can't afford another bloodless day or the Capitol will send us an unpleasant surprise." Well, I have a surprise for these Careers. I don't know if it'll be unpleasant for me or for them. As Athena and Alex reach out for me, I swing out and slug Alex in the jaw. He stumbles back, caught off-guard, but he doesn't seem hurt. Career mindset, Career pain tolerance. I huff out a quick, angry breath, but then adjust my position to a defensive stance. I can't let the same thing happen to me.

"Alex! Protect yourself!" Athena hollers, dropping her longbow. I guess the long-range weapon isn't useful in such close quarters. She doesn't seem to have any knives or swords in close reach, though. Alex has a rapier, though, and that scares me. I've seen him work with a blade in training, and he's good. Really good. However, he doesn't draw it. I lunge for him, but this time he blocks my punch with his forearm. I send a flailing flurry of blows raining down on his shoulders; still he doesn't really react. He keeps up a block and feints every so often towards my gut, making me pull back. Athena stands warily to the side.

"Oof!" Alex doesn't feint and instead goes straight for my sternum. He misses by a few inches, but getting punched in the gut by a Career isn't a walk in the park in any case. I double over and his elbow comes crashing up towards my nose. I hear something in my face crack and I gasp. Blood sprays from my nose and I stumble backwards, bracing myself against the wall.

"Athena! Go!" The older girl runs over and slams a knee into my stomach, sending me all the way to the floor.

"Got him! Grab his arms!" With the girl pinning me to the ground I can't stop Alex from pulling my arms behind my back and painfully hauling me to my feet. I grit my teeth- the combined pain from my torso and face makes it hard to do much of anything.

"Aren't you going to kill me now?" I hiss, trying to twist away from my captors.

"We made a deal. It would mean our deaths if you died right now, buddy. But I promise, you'll wish we had killed you very, very soon." Athena doesn't sound happy about it, but she doesn't loosen her grip on my neck as Alex pulls me to my feet. When I'm standing she grabs my left arm and her ally keeps a hold of my right. I swear loudly, spitting and kicking, as they drag me out of the room, but to no avail. The two Careers keep a firm grip as we head for the staircase.

An animalistic rage swells up in my chest as they force me down the stairs. I jerk my shoulders from side to side, forcing Athena and Alex to stop for a minute and adjust their hold. I was tall at home, but these two monsters can lift me up in the air and march me to my doom. I can only feel fear and anger as they shove me down the stairs. Not a hint of regret or sorrow. Only base emotion. I don't even feel human anymore.

DISTRICT TWO FEMALE: FLAVIA BAXTER

There's too much of a chance that my allies will begin to kill without me today. I don't want them out there, hunting. I don't want to be stuck here guarding our dumb supplies. If I were hunting, there would be no one left to protect the supplies from! Athena is a useless leader. We haven't had a kill at all. It just makes me want to kill that girl even more. And even sooner. There are fourteen tributes left. I need blood.

I run my knife along the rim of the Cornucopia, making a screeching metal-on-metal noise. An angry sound to match my feelings- perfect. I allow a small smile to play across my lips before I rise to my feet and swing on top of the golden horn. A better view for a better kill.

Camilla and my district partner went to the top floor again to search for prey. Alex and our sorry excuse for a leader started a floor beneath that to hunt. And I'm stuck here, waiting for the whole pitiful day for any passing victims. I'll settle for my so-called allies when they come back through to go to the basement. I can make it look like an accident fairly easily. Just say that they surprised me and the knife had left my hand before I recognized the face. Simple revenge.

I'd be doing them a favor. They don't understand the horror of that surgery floor. A shadowy man, waiting silently for his patients to come to him. Standing quiet in the shadows… and stepping out when you get too close. Such a clever trick. Such a close call. I can't die before my target does, though. And I plan to die at home.

Muffled yelling echoes down from the staircase. Someone's coming, and they're fighting. I pull two knives from my belt and poise my hand to throw. I can't afford wounds right now, and they won't see my blades coming. The door bursts open and three scuffling tributes collapse onto the floor. The first face I recognize is Athena, as she jumps out of the fray, and I raise my arm higher, my heart burning with hate. And then I see Blue and I jerk my arm to the side at the last second, sending my knife clattering over the floor.

"You actually followed through with it," I sneer silkily, trying not to sound too thrilled. Athena just glares at me, but Alex shoves the younger boy down again and pins him to the floor before speaking.

"Of course we did, Flavia. We're not that cold-hearted towards you." I consider his statement for a moment, trying to figure out if it is a passive-aggressive insult, but I let it be. They brought me my prey like good little followers. I guess Athena can live for a while longer.

"Bring him here." Alex lets Blue up and the sixteen-year-old staggers in front of me.

"What do you want with me, Flavia?" I snarl.

"I want your blood, boy. Two years ago my little brother was killed by the boy from Ten." I look up at the ceiling, trying to find any cameras. "You hear that, District Ten? THIS IS MY REVENGE!" Blue gapes at me.

"You can't do this! My brother died in the Games, too! It isn't fair, I never hurt your family! Just let me go!" I whirl around and smack him across the face, hard. His head snaps back and he stares at me while a red handprint begins to appear on his cheek. One finger crosses over his eye and he raises a trembling hand to his face. I must have hit him really hard, because he cups his eye gingerly. The crimson marks are beginning to swell.

"This. Is. My. Revenge." My words are quiet now and he finally seems to get it, "Grab him, Alex." I bark just as he turns to run. The tall boy from Four grabs Blue's shoulders. "On your knees, scum." Blue glares at me defiantly, but with one look from me to Alex he's shoved to the floor. He doesn't resist anymore. I go to my personal supplies and grab a few vials of poison. "Welcome to my nightmare."

"Flavia, what are you doing? You have him. Kill him now." Athena tries to command me, but I'm far out of her reach now. Past her influence.

"And now for my revenge." I select a dainty blade and approach my victim. He slumps on the floor in front of the Cornucopia, his dark hair covering his eyes. His face is in shadow, but I can see his clenched fists. He's given up almost all of his hope, but he has yet to break.

So I'll break him. The first slash of the knife gashes his back, making him mewl in pain and arch his back. Crimson flowers bloom on the white shirt. I cross the first line with two others, writing in his skin with scarlet ink. My little brother's name emerges on my flesh canvas, and Alex turns his head away from the scene. I always knew he was weak.

FRAY. The name that caused my family so much pain now causes District Ten even more hurt. I send the knife clattering across the tiles and pull out another, bigger blade. A slow, curving slice down his arms and collarbone forces the boy to sag lower to the ground in agony, but he's tough. Blue does not cry out yet. He refuses to break.

I remove the stopper from the first vial of poison, a light purple concoction that I learned to recognize in training. It splashes through the air and hisses on Blue's back, sinking into the knife marks and dissolving the ragged white fabric. He breaks, rolling his shoulders and screaming. I see the first of the tears splash onto the ground. A dark blue vial drips sluggishly onto the boy's back next, turning the remaining skin a bright red and causing it to blister. Blood blisters. The next, an emerald green liquid, makes the blood flow freely from all the cuts. Blue collapses onto the ground in sheer agony, crying and whimpering and screaming. I lean down and whisper in his ear.

"Don't worry, it won't kill you." The boy struggles to form words through the pain, but he manages.

"Please… please make it stop… Please…" I smile. He's been broken at last. My revenge has been exacted.

"Give me your sword, Alex." The boy fumbles with the sheath but gives me the rapier quickly enough. "And Athena, bring him to his knees, please." She gingerly helps the boy to kneel. Only now in this broken state is an execution a great improvement.

"Off with your head." I bring the sword down and Blue's dead eyes blink once as his head rolls.

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**BLUE ANSTON: "It needs but one foe to breed a war, and those who have not swords can still die upon them." -J.R.R. Tolkien**

**CURRENT STANDINGS:**

**Careers: F1 Athena Monroe, F2 Flavia Baxter, M2 Gray Tanner, F4 Camilla Thyra, M4 Alex Isis**

**A1: M3 Newt Hillen, M6 Chandler Mathews, F11 Bay Farris**

**A2: F12 Sara Ross, M12 Luis Thomsen**

**Loners: F5 Delany Lavis, F7 Laken Marx, M9 Alec Ryans**

**Goodness, Blue, I'll miss you. I felt absolutely horrible writing your death scene and I thought I was going to cry. Well, we're not even halfway through the tribute pool yet and we're in day five of the arena still. And there are two days left until it all goes BOOM! I don't know how long it will be until the next chapter, but I promise you it will come! **

**Tell me what you thought!**


	26. Walking on a Thin Line

**Whee! Here's another one, my vultures! No new poll, nothing special (no story cover), but a brand-new chapter should suffice for now. **

**R&R! :)**

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DISTRICT ONE FEMALE: ATHENA MONROE

The cannon booms out as the boy's headless body crumples finally to the ground. Flavia's expression is one of total triumph; the only thing I can hope is that she starts to quiet down now that she's finally gotten her prey. I sort of doubt it, though. She's already snapped, a long time ago. There's no chance that she will ever have a chance at having a semblance of normality ever again. And I helped her kill this boy. But I had to do it! Alex and I both, there was no escape from the deed. Our lives are more important than Blue's, and we had made a promise to Flavia besides.

A small part of me says that I shouldn't have let her control me like that. I'm the leader of the Careers and nobody should assume command over me like Flavia did. But it was to keep the alliance together, I argue with myself, my job is to keep the Careers as a pack. Flavia is too dangerous to let live and yet in some way she unites us. I don't know what would happen to the Careers if I killed the District Two girl, but I do know that when she's complacent we can stay together and live longer.

"I guess we should move away from the kill," Alex mutters. I nod and the two of us guiltily retreat from Blue's corpse. Flavia stands over the body for another few moments before she backs away, still grinning crazily. Slowly the floor slides open and the boy's body and head slip into the darkness beneath.

"Do you think the others will be returning soon?" I wonder aloud. Alex gives me a look that says 'I desperately hope so', and I can understand why. The kill rage hasn't quite dissipated from Flavia's bloodthirsty ice-blue eyes; she always wants to kill now. Always. My mother's words about the Games either making you or breaking you echo in my mind. I don't want to be broken like Flavia. I want to go home. All my allies will die if I am to live, but I have bigger issues now. How do I get back to One without becoming like her- hollow inside, with the insane rage welling up in my head?

"I have gotten my revenge at last," Flavia whispers hoarsely, as if she is suddenly exhausted, "And I can turn my attention to the others!" There goes that last little flame of hope that she would simmer down once she finished off Blue.

"Who do you mean by 'others'?" Alex asks her warily. Flavia gives him a dazzling smile.

"Our enemies, Alex, of course!" I could have sworn her gaze flickered to me as she said that, but I'm not sure. The boy edges closer to me.

"Athena… we need to watch her." His mouth doesn't even move as he speaks, effectively hiding his words from the insane girl. I give a barely perceptible nod in reply.

"Are they coming yet?" I say out loud. Flavia sharply turns her head to look around the giant metal horn blocking our view of the door.

"Nope, nobody's coming right now." If not for the gleam in her eyes, Flavia could be normal.

"Well then, what should we do? Eat? Talk? Set up a pet store?" Alex jokes, trying to relax us all. I allow myself to laugh, and Flavia slowly lets a small smile creep across her lips.

"What would the pet store sell, creepy muttations?" A voice rings out from the stairwell doorway.

"Whoa!" I whirl around with my sword- formerly Adrian's sword- drawn, to see Camilla and Gray watching us.

"Now that we're all comfy-cozy here in our lair with bloodstains on the ground and preparing to sell animals, can someone explain what happened here?" Camilla rolls her eyes at Gray's mention of the pet store. "We heard a cannon, and then we get down here to find all of you guys sitting around like we're not in the Hunger Games. Flavia and Athena, it was pretty obvious this morning that you guys were about to kill each other."

"Like we're not in the Hunger Games. Great simile, Gray," Flavia snorts.

"She killed Blue," I explain to the confused Camilla and Gray, "It's why she's so… happy." I wouldn't say happy is the right word, but it's better than 'bloodthirsty and raging' in any case. Camilla nods slowly and gravitates towards me. We don't trust this death-happy girl any more than we did the insane vengeful one. The rest of the Careers are still united against her, in our own little ways. Even Gray stays away from Flavia now.

"Well, I vote food," Gray declares, moving towards our room and stash of supplies, "Food and not thinking about killing anyone else until tomorrow. Flavia sort of scored a major personal victory, so I don't see why the rest of us have to go out for more kills. We have plenty of time. Nobody out there is willing to kill." I shrug.

"Fine by me." We move as a group into the room now, but I hang back as the others retrieve cans and pouches of sustenance. My hands are shaking, actually shaking, with some sort of anger and guilt. I helped Flavia kill that boy.

Alex and I both did, and look. He's staying back as well, as pale as a sheet.

"Alex, are you all right?"

"Shaken."

"You never were a killer, were you? You've probably never even considered killing another person, huh? And now you assisted Flavia in killing Blue." The boy closes his eyes and nods quickly.

"Athena, what's wrong with us?" It takes me by surprise.

"What?"

"There's something terribly wrong about all of this."

"No. What are you talking about? This is the way things are. If you don't kill, you don't go home and you die instead. It's a fact of the Games. We all know that. There's nothing wrong with us." It feels right. It has to be right. It's what we're always told. The Capitol and the Games are right.

But now a part of me is breaking.

DISTRICT SEVEN FEMALE: LAKEN MARX

The late afternoon sunlight filtering through the barred windows shines into my eyes and I feel like there's someone banging on the inside of my head. Of course, there sort of is someone like that. Laken's still very afraid of this place, of everything here. I can't exactly let her back out; she'd be in hysterics so bad she'd manage to get herself caught. And then both of us would die a horrible death at the hand of some tribute or muttation. Or even that ogre I saw wandering around a few days ago.

There are now thirteen tributes remaining. I can't fail now and let Laken die; I have to keep her safe like I have been doing for years now. Ever since she started hiding her feelings after the incident. And I've been getting out more and more ever since her mom went into a coma. I suppose she's my mother as well, but nah. She's Laken's mom through and through. She doesn't even know me. Only if I get Laken home safely will she get the chance. She needs Capitol medicine now.

Ugh, it's starting to get late. I take my remaining food out of the pack and decide what to eat. There isn't much choice left- bully beef, crackers, or dried fruit. I choose the fruit and settle down against the wall to eat it. The sky outside is pretty nice, actually. I haven't gotten used to not seeing ground- there's so much great stuff on the ground, like magic snakes- but the sky is a beautiful pale blue. Now it's turning the lovely colors of a sunset, the same it has for the past several nights. The sky is probably a hologram of some sort, but it's still nice. If it were real I would have seen dragons in it by now.

The sky seems to change from sunset to an inky blue in the time it takes for me to blink. It's quiet, entirely quiet, until a small flickering buzz hums through the arena. The anthem clicks on a second before the Capitol seal appears on the ceiling, carried by will o' the wisps to its position. I exhale slowly as the seal fades. One person died today and there are still people out there who I care about. Sara and Luis, for example. I would worry about Rowne if he were still here. But he's not. I have to focus on myself, too.

The face shimmers into view, followed by the name of the tribute and his district. Blue Anston, from Ten. I bow my head in remembrance for a moment as the pixelated face fades; the anthem blasts into the arena and then leaves us all in the silence of the dark. The sky has faded to its final midnight color, although it can't have been five minutes since I was thinking about the sunset. The Capitol just can't let us have anything of home, can they? We can't even see the sky that our families and friends back in the districts see. Although we might not be anywhere near the districts. We can't see what's going on out there, so we can't know where we are. The Arena strikes again.

We're not entirely separated from home. I'm sure that's what keeps most of the tributes here from losing it in the first day. That's why they allow tokens here. A lifeline to home, for sanity and motivation. I reach into Laken's pocket and pull out her token, a small stone with the imprint of an ancient leaf inside it. Not really a fossil, but close enough to be described as such. We found it in the forests with Luna and Tennan, and we gave it to her brother. When he died she took it back as a memory of him and we decided to keep it always.

And we have, even here. Sprites like to curl up in the grooves left by impossibly old leaves, and once, back in Seven, I even saw a tiny leprechaun looking at the thing. There are so many memories for both Laken and me with this fossil thing, I'm sure I'd break if it were destroyed. I wouldn't go insane- I don't believe in insanity, you see- but I would be very sad. Laken, if she had control then, would definitely be hurt. Probably enough so that I would have to come out.

That's always been my job. To protect and shield Laken from harm. And so far it's been pretty easy, just pop out and calm her down sometimes when she's having a hard time coping. But here, in this stupid arena, everything's so much more difficult. I can't just help her, I have to actually do things and keep her physically safe. Even though her consciousness is in the back of her head right now, she's just frozen, like a deer in headlights. She's always been a good girl, but she's never been all right with hurting others. That's why I'm here, to protect her from the pain of others.

Neither of us are fighters, and that's the problem. I'm a defender, but not a warrior. And this place is where the warriors triumph. We have to fight, there's no other way. And I always have to be the strong one.

Laken's done this before. The times when she has so much stuff to do that she just lies down and takes a nap. Well, I have so much stuff to do, that I think I'll just… go… to… sleep. I retreat to the back of Laken's mind, where her little conscious lies, and wrap an arm around her. As our eyes close, I'm aware of a huge phoenix hopping over to where our body lies and laying a wing over it. A moment of peace, before all that stuff I have to do decides to break like a storm over my head.

But I just need to protect Laken.

DISTRICT TWO MALE: GRAY TANNER

"All right, you guys, the last watch of the night is officially over! Everyone up!" the District Four pair shouts gleefully into our makeshift camp room. I groan as Alex hauls me out of my sleeping bag and Camilla flips the light switch on.

"Owww," Flavia groans, curling up in a little ball in her corner of the room, "Turn off the lights, you idiot, or I will give you a very painful death."

"C'mon, Flavia, just get up," Athena mutters. Of course our leader is already perfectly awake and ready to do whatever needs to be done, "It's day six and there are still eight tributes aside from us."

Two stomachs rumble in unison. Alex and I share a grin and then he turns to the others.

"Well, before we worry about them, I say we eat," he says. All the girls roll their eyes.

"You boys and your stomachs," Camilla says, but we rush to the supply closet.

"Um, guys," Athena starts hesitantly, "I think we have a problem." She moves aside from the entrance, revealing the three remaining cans of food.

"We're almost out? How?" Flavia exclaims, "Wait. Of course. We had a system set up in the bloodbath, that some people would guard supplies. And SOMEONE let us down!" She turns on me with a knife drawn.

"What? Whoa! I don't know what you mean!" I yelp, scampering backwards as fast as I can.

Athena sighs. "Gray, when Alec knocked you unconscious we had less protection for the supplies. So more of it got stolen by the others. Which is why we hardly have any food left now."

"Um… sorry?" I squeak as Flavia brings her knife closer and closer to my throat, "Guys! You wouldn't kill me over this! Two reasons, too! One, you can't eat me, that's disgusting, and two; it's not exactly my fault. Alec is like twice my size and I STILL have the injuries." I motion to the bruise on my head while still backing away from Flavia. The clumsy movement unbalances me and I tumble to the floor.

"Flavia, don't kill him," Alex barks, "He's still your ally, and your district partner. And my friend." The girl bares her teeth for a second but then lowers her blade.

"Thanks, dude," I say, leaping to my feet. We glance in consternation at our supplies.

"At least we still have lots of water," Camilla tries to be positive, "Most of that wasn't actually in packs that people took." The rest of us murmur our assent but still focus on the meager food supplies.

"Well," Athena suggests, "Eat as much breakfast as you can- I'm staying back so I won't eat anything- and then hunt down some supplies. We can't count on sponsor gifts- most of the time they're specified to the tribute and we don't know how much the price has gone up. There's enough water here to keep us going for a while yet, but we'll be hungry for the first time in a while." We nod gravely and move towards the food.

"All right. Three cans, four tributes," I say quickly, "That's easy, then. Three-fourths of a can for everyone!" And it's simple food; a can of anonymous meat and two tins of pears in syrup- what we ate for dessert the night of the bloodbath, and now breakfast on day six. Maybe it wasn't just other tributes getting the food that has depleted our resources so quickly- it's our failure to ration out the food early on.

We quietly sit and eat, passing around the mystery meat and pears as Athena arms herself to keep guard all day.

"Hey, Athena," Alex calls out with his mouth full, "what are you guarding now, anyways, with the food gone?"

"Water," she says simply, "and extra weapons. Not to mention keeping an eye on this floor for the runners that might try to get away from you guys."

"Nice answer," Camilla says, making Alex sort of blush. He was trying to make something funny happen. Sort of backfired, didn't it?

We finish eating and start arming ourselves to go hunting. Alex and I will partner up and Camilla and Flavia will work together for today. I go to the weapons last, taking the remnants that the others leave behind. There aren't knives or swords or bows and arrows left today, so I'm stuck with a small flail. Oh well, it'll work. At least it's simple to use and I can actually lift it. Granite thinks I should be able to lift things twice its size, like his precious Pik can do.

A sudden humming in the room halts our preparations. It's almost like… static.

"There are thirteen of you left alive at this point," says the deep voice of the announcer.

"We sort of know that, Mr. Disembodied Voice!" Flavia sneers, "So will you get to the point already?"

"Normally with so many tributes left, it is typical to let the Games go on as planned. But these Games are not typical. As such, there will be a feast tomorrow. In exactly twenty-four hours' time, something will be put into the arena for each one of you. Something you desperately need to survive. For some it may be a weapon; for others, motivation; and for some, medicine. But you can only attain it by attending the feast. It will be held in the Cornucopia Lobby in twenty-four hours. Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favor."

The static remains in the air for just a few seconds after the voice clicks off, but it stays in our skulls for a while after that. I finally break the silence.

"So, the feast. What do you think they'll have for us?"

"Food."

"Better weapons." Of course Flavia says that.

"Notes from home, maybe?"

Athena, practical as always, stops our brainstorming. "Guys, twenty-four hours. We'll all need to sleep tonight, so we need to find out when the feast begins. Check the clock." I run to the Cornucopia and stare at the clock on the far wall.

"Ten minutes past one- that's no help, it's definitely late morning!" We all seem preoccupied now. I realize Athena wasn't asking me what time the feast starts for the good of the Careers.

No Pack has ever lasted past the feast before. This is always the final breaking of the Careers.

DISTRICT ELEVEN FEMALE: BAY FARRIS

"…in the Cornucopia lobby in twenty-four hours. Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favor." The announcer's calm, deep voice hangs in the still air as the boys and I take a break from the barred window.

"They might have something for you to dismantle the window with, Newt!" I exclaim.

"Or defuse the bomb," mutters Chandler. Yeah, that too, I suppose. Newt frowns.

"I don't think so. They'd gladly give us food, but I doubt they'd help us escape. That's why they want the feast. To have a victor before the bomb goes off." I sigh.

"Well, why don't we go to the feast, grab our bags, and get back up here to break out?" I cry.

"Look at the countdown," Chandler whispers. It reads exactly 24:10:00.

"It reads twenty-four ten. What about it?" I say, "We need whatever they have for us down there, and we can get back up here and escape!" The boys share a look.

"Bay, in twenty-four hours and ten minutes, this arena will blow up. In twenty-four hours, the feast begins. They're giving the others ten minutes to die or win. They don't just want to narrow down the tribute pool; they want a victor before the explosion."

"So?"

"If we go down there to get supplies, our chances of living drop drastically. We have no physical chance of winning, any of us. If we want to live, we have to break out before the feast and get as far away from here as is humanly possible in order to survive the explosion. We have to focus on escape," Newt is louder and more expressive than I've ever seen him before.

"But what about the stuff we need?"

"We can survive without it for at least a few days. It can't be that important."

"They said we would need it."

"We need our lives more." I sigh. These boys are too stubborn, and it might just get them killed. I don't want them to die, and I don't want Delany to die- just like I didn't want Skyford or Karlie to die- but I want to get home. The question is, do I want to get home more than I want my friends to live? That's hard. I would sacrifice myself for people like my sisters and brother, but I don't know if I would die for Dee and the boys. And I don't know if I could possibly sacrifice them in order to reach District Eleven again.

Newt turns back to the window and Chandler, who previously was staring at the timer, follows him. They pick up their scrap metal- pipes we loosened from the gurneys and equipment and our knives- and go to work once more on the bars. Two of the stupid things lie on the floor already, and two remain. A whole day, almost a day and a half, was spent on those two dumb bars. And I don't know if we will be able to break through the remaining two by tomorrow. It took so long and we're all exhausted from banging and chipping away at the metal.

Chandler found a way that somewhat worked. He has a sharp-edged pipe and he figured out that he can weaken the bars by scraping his pipe against them and shaving off little slivers at a time, making a dent. The noise is terrible, but eventually it really does help. We already blunted our knife working on the stupid things. It would be easier if we could just cut each bar once, but we have to break it twice, once on each end, to get it off the window.

"I still think we should go to the feast."

"No." Oh great, now they're speaking in unison at me.

"Yes. We can break the window, go grab the stuff, and then come escape and hightail it out of here. We'll be fine. We're fast."

"Bay, we're not going to the feast." Now I'm starting to get angry. When the Capitol offers you something, you take it. In Eleven, we may hate the Capitol, but at least we know that they can keep you alive if they want. We take what we can get and these boys- normally so smart, but now so dumb- passing up the opportunity of prolonged survival are really starting to irritate me.

"Well, maybe you're not, but I plan to attend." Newt's stare is incredulous.

"Bay, why?"

"We really do need what they're offering."

"We're trying to save you."

"Why? You practically forced me to be your ally and then you barely even acknowledge me." All right, I know the reason for the last part. I just thought it would be a little bit funny, and I'm right. Both boys look at the floor, flushing crimson, and mumble an apology.

"W…we may not want you to go, and we don't exactly want any other tributes to survive, but we know you. We couldn't let you go after you found out about the bomb, and we can't just let you go down there and die. You told us that your first two allies died in battle and Delany Lavis has a broken leg from the bloodbath." It doesn't fix everything, but it's really, really sweet.

"Don't worry, guys. I'll stick around." I hug Newt first, the older boy stiffening in my embrace. I can almost hear his heart rate shooting up and his arms sort of flail around before awkwardly returning the hug. I stifle a giggle. Chandler reacts just about the same way, but he just keeps fumbling the entire time without returning the hug at all.

These guys are perfect allies for each other. How did I get dragged into this nerdy mix? This time my chiming laughter escapes into the room uninhibited.

* * *

**I suppose it's nice having no obituaries to write. However, it just means more for later. There is a feast coming up, after all. Not next chapter, but the chapter after that. MUAHAHA! And I'm coming up on both the '350 reviews' and '100K words' checkpoints, which really excites me. (Actually, I should be able to hit 350 on this chapter. Wanna help me out, guys?)**

**CURRENT STANDINGS:**

**Careers: F1 Athena Monroe, F2 Flavia Baxter, M2 Gray Tanner, F4 Camilla Thyra, M4 Alex Isis**

**A1: M3 Newt Hillen, M6 Chandler Mathews, F11 Bay Farris**

**A2: F12 Sara Ross, M12 Luis Thomsen (Don't worry, D12 fans, they'll be back next chapter!)**

**Loners: F5 Delany Lavis, F7 Laken Marx, M9 Alec Ryans**

**Tell me what you thought! Here are some extra questions that I'd like you to answer in your reviews (optional, of course):**

**1) Do you think anyone will escape before the arena blows? Who?**

**2) Who are you expecting to die at the feast?**

**3) What did you think of the events in this chapter?**


	27. Old Friends

**I had several people complain about the amount of time spent on the Careers and Alliance One. Yeah, I have been giving them an inordinate amount of screen time. So this chapter is all the people we have to catch up with. Note: I had the POVs planned in advance, so this scene was decided on a while back. The excess amount of Careers/A1 was a weird thing with the system I use to choose POVS. So here you guys go!**

**This is the night of Day 6. Next chapter is the feast.**

**R&R! Thanks to everyone for the lovely reviews I have received thus far. :)**

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DISTRICT FIVE FEMALE: DELANY LAVIS

It's darkening outside as I swallow the very last of the tiny purple pills Bay left with me. I can't check on my leg since it's too dark too see much and I don't want anyone seeing the lights on in this room. I examined it this morning and there weren't any signs of infection, which was great. The bloody hole in my leg seems to be effectively scabbing over (although with something that size it's no surprise it's taken this long to start healing), but who knows how long it will take before I'm able to confidently walk again? One more reason to win the Games and escape the arena, I guess. The Capitol's medicines and real hospitals.

It's hard to walk and move around, even with the leg brace. My entire lower half is sore and my leg stings and aches whenever I put any weight on it (and that's with these amazing painkillers). Tough. I need to get to the feast tomorrow and broken leg or not, I'm headed out tomorrow morning. These pills last about twelve hours, and the feast is in about twelve hours, so I really hope the Capitol has left me some serious medicine and food. Water I'm fine with, too, but it's easy enough to get that from the poison and water sinks. And I can drag myself to the faucet without hurting my leg too much.

Which means I'm going to need some serious practice and motivation in order to even make it to the feast- not to mention escaping afterwards. I grasp the edge of the gurney with one hand and pull myself to my feet. I'm balancing on one foot, but I can in no way hop all the way to the feast and back and survive. I have to walk and run, which means utilizing my broken leg.

Slowly, so slowly, I lower the foot to the ground and rest it there. Slow steps, Delany, just take it slow. I exhale and as I do, let some of my weight shift to the braced leg. With a quick gasp and the realization that the pain meds haven't kicked in all the way yet, I crumple onto the gurney. How will this ever work? I'm just destined to die here, aren't I?

No. I'm not. I'm going home, to Jesy and Beth and Harry. To my mom and dad and Lydia and Barley. I will get home. I just have to be stronger than ever before. It makes me wish Bay were still here. I don't know where she is or how she's doing, but I hope she's all right.

If I died, though, I'd be wherever Leighann is. We could be together again, the sisters reunited. No. Leighann, no matter how much I miss her, will have to wait for me. I don't want to die here. I have to die, true, but I want to die at home with my family and friends, not in the arena, killed by another teenager or this dumb leg.

Time to try again. I move at the same slow pace, gradually putting more weight on my leg. It's tingling- probably getting used to moving around again. I don't exactly do very much in this lonely room. Sleep and eat and try to convince myself of my survival and watch for other tributes.

The medicine must be fully working now, because I'm standing almost normally and there's just slight twinges of pain. That's nice. It always gets worse when I try to walk. So I just have to hope it's actually starting to heal this time. I lift it up, the brace sort of messing with my knee and making me walk funny, and carefully step forward. "Crap! Ow…ow…ow…ow…ow!" I wince and clench my teeth at the pain, but I force myself to deal with it and prepare to take the next step. Quickly swinging my other foot forward, I manage to spend the least possible amount of time with all my weight on my bad foot. The pain hangs out for a few more moments and it almost incapacitates me entirely.

"Come on, Delany, you can walk, just put on foot in front of the other, it'll be fine, we need to get to the feast." Oh great, now I'm talking to myself. Gotta love that. I roll my eyes and practice shuffling around again. It works better than actual walking and I can move fairly quickly. I'm sure the adrenaline will help me make it through the pain while I'm at the feast. Stairs are my firsts adversary. Other than falling, walking is the only way to make it down them and I'm not keen on falling.

Almost out of nowhere, the Capitol anthem begins to play and scares me half to death. I fall back on the gurney and look up at the ceiling. No faces appear, so the Capitol segues right into another playing of the anthem. Lovely. Can't they just play it once? Nope, they have to be all official.

I sigh and roll onto my side. There are still thirteen of us, right? The Careers- Athena, Flavia, Gray, and the pair from Four. The boy from Three. Me. The boy from Six. Laken Marx. Alec Ryans. Bay. And the pair from Twelve. Yep, that's the remaining tributes. I bet the Capitol plans to cut it down to at least eight by the end of the feast. That's when they do the interviews.

Twelve adversaries to defeat, all with a broken leg. Yeah, I never did get the best of things, but up until now I always managed. I wish Bay had stayed. Then we would just have had eleven enemies. If Bay were here I probably wouldn't be so miserable. Ugh.

DISTRICT TWELVE FEMALE: SARA ROSS

The anthem fades slowly into the night and Luis and I are left standing nervously at the doorway to the lobby. He seems especially jittery, always shuffling his feet and doing something with his hands. Right now he's fidgeting with the end of his axe handle.

"Calm down, Luis," I hiss. We're too close to the Careers for him to make noise.

"Sara, it's do or die. Do you expect me to be totally steady?"

"No, but I do expect you to be stable. Like you were at the reapings. Strong and unshakable. We need a Luis who can handle fighting at close range right now, not the one who freaks out at the smallest hint of conflict. You know I can't do that, why do you think I fight with a slingshot? It's less guilt."

"And guilt is one of the reasons I'm so nervous! I KILLED one of them, and murder is never something to be taken lightly, even in the Games. We need to move. Now." The Careers haven't sent out the first watch yet. This is the last opportunity we have- it's dark and quiet in the lobby. "Go!" I hurtle past the open door and down towards Floor One. The stairwell lights never go off and the Careers have left the door open. If we make too much noise or even stand in the open for too long, we'll be dead. They are too powerful with all five of them there, and they'll be too alert when the night watch comes out.

"Come on, Luis!" I whisper. He nods and starts to oblige when a loud call comes from the Careers' room.

"Did you guys see that?" Shocked, Luis falls back and crouches against the far wall of the stairwell. Footsteps sound for a few agonizingly long seconds.

"Camilla, where are you going? I didn't hear anything!" That's the boy from Four, Alex.

"I… I thought I hear something over here." The girl is confused. The footsteps recede and Luis takes the opportunity to haul butt over to my side of the staircase.

"Aw, come on! There's no one there! We could have seen them in the doorway!" The other Careers chime in with Alex.

"Just let me check, all right?" Luis and I stumble down the stairs and out of view; we only see Camilla's shadow and she never catches sight of us. Good. I hope it stays that way. I nudge my district partner in the back and he winces.

"Oops. Sorry, Luis," I must have poked him where he has the knife wounds from Lucia, "Just… keep moving, all right?" He gives me a look and leaps down the stairs two at a time. I follow, only slightly more cautious.

"Well, this is it. Home sweet home- until the feast, that is," he mutters, pushing open the door and letting me walk into the corridor. He leans on the door frame behind me, "Sort of creepy, isn't it?" I nod.

"Definitely weird. They really know how to mess with our heads, huh?" Luis scowls but agrees.

"We should check all the rooms before we go to sleep. We don't want anyone else finding us in the night and taking us down." The usual bluntness in his voice is back, instead of the nervousness I have been hearing over the past few hours. Ever since the feast announcement, really.

"I'll take this side of the corridor," I volunteer for the three rooms on our right. Luis nods curtly.

"But if I finish mine first, I'm stealing your last room," he says, now smiling. I laugh weakly and duck into the first room, "Call if you find anything," he says to my back.

"Only if you do the same!" I step into the room and flick on the lights. A surgery is lit up, with sharp tools in a weird tray beside an operating table and a tangle of wires obscuring the back wall. The light hangs over the table, flickering ominously. It wouldn't surprise me at all if nobody is down here. Who would want to stay in this creepy place? It's very Games-y, though.

"Hello." The creaking voice makes me flinch back against the door, which closes with a loud click thanks to my push. The fact that there's someone here isn't the scary part. It's the fact that the voice is familiar. I might not have heard it in a long time, but it's instantly recognizable still. Hoarse and weary, but achingly familiar. It can't be, can it? A figure steps from the shadows. "Is that you?"

He may be wearing- in the theme of the arena, of course- a doctor's white coat, but the strong face, rough hands, dark hair and gray eyes show me that it is. It really is him. "Archer," I whisper, "Archer, how are you here?" My boyfriend, who went missing eight months before the Games. Thought dead at home, and here he is. Is it a trap?

"Archer, is it really you? How do I know it isn't a trap?"

"Sara, it's me. I was taken by the Capitol eight months and fifteen days ago from District Twelve, suspected of rebellion. They put me in here as a trap for you, but it's me. I promise. They failed. Just like the stupid Capitol they are. They failed, and I'm here for you. We can escape together." Eight months and fifteen days. That's right. It's him! Clones wouldn't have the same memories, and if he was hijacked he wouldn't have kept up with the count.

"Archer… Archer, I thought you were dead!" I run towards him and we crash together in a hug that's trying to make up for eight months and fifteen days of separation. Tears run down my cheeks as we kiss. He's here. I've found him. I've found him at last.

"Sara, we can do this. Together, now. We can escape."

"Archer, they won't let two people escape from the arena."

"The better reason to make it happen. Haven't we always talked about defying the Capitol? What better chance will we get?" I grin.

"This is about to get awesome. I've been allied with my district partner- Luis Thomsen, he's a year older than us- and we're at the top thirteen now. We can do this! Maybe even get all three of us out alive!" Archer smiles and sits down on the operating table and beckons for me to join him. I do, leaning my head on his shoulder. He kisses the top of my head. "Archer, it's been so long. Where did they keep you for all that time?"

"Well, for most of that time I was down here. They needed all their props in here way before the Games, so they stuck me in. They send me food every day, though."

"Food?" Archer laughs and lays back on the table. I put my head on his chest and try to imagine how it will be defying the Capitol with my best friend.

"They wanted me to kill you." A sudden harshness enters his voice. I can feel muscles tensing in his chest. "Just you, Sara. There were others, but they weren't my prey."

"Archer…" Suddenly his warmth is gone from beneath my head; the back of my head hits the metal table painfully. My boyfriend stands over me, holding my wrists above my head with a snarl on his face. "Archer, what's going on?"

"They told me exactly how I was supposed to act. They told me what to do. And I will obey my masters. The Capitol."

"You're not Archer!" I hiss, struggling to break free."

"Oh, but I am, Sara Ross. They had three months to work on me before I was put in the arena. And I wasn't hijacked, oh no, but they have plenty of other techniques, my masters. They told me what to do, what to say. And they made sure you would be here." I try to scream, but Archer claps a hand over my mouth and pushes my entire body onto the table. With metal bands restraining me at the waist, wrists, and ankles, I can barely move. Archer adjusts his lab coat and pulls a surgical mask over his face. "Isn't it fitting that both you and your father were killed by friends? Runs in the family, no?" I scream.

"LUIS! HELP!" Archer goes to the tray of surgical tools and picks out a delicate, almost dainty-looking knife, one that's specifically designed for carving up the human body.

"Sara Ross, my Sara. You were always a rebel." He slides the knife against my side and the first thing I actually register is the quiet sound of tearing fabric, followed by a red flower blooming on the white cloth.

Then the pain. A fiery stinging in my side that I can't escape from no matter what I do. Archer's lips twist into a thin smile and he moves down to my legs. The knife flashes in the flicker light, making a small series of cuts down my right shin and calf. "Look at you, Sara, courageous in the face of death. I wonder how long you'll last. The girl from Two only saw me and ran away blubbering." The pain feels like a piece of barbed wire is wrapped around my leg- which, before the Games, was the most physically painful thing I had ever experienced. Archer grins at the blood that's beginning to flow and considers my face for a moment before reaching his blade towards it.

"This is the last bit of decoration, Sara, don't you worry." I grit my teeth against the pain growing in my torso and leg and watch as the scalpel descends. At first I panic, thinking Archer has plans to blind me, but no. The pain blossoms in a line down from the corner of my left eye. Like a tear track. I can't contain the whimper that escapes as he sets down the crimson-speckled blade in exchange for a larger specimen. "But this surgery isn't over yet."

He stabs the knife into my wrist and I scream. It's gone right through those arteries that you're never supposed to cut. The pain is terrible, worse than I've ever felt before. I've been fooling myself all those times when I told myself I could deal with things like this. Archer smiles with true glee and plunges another blade into my shoulder, right at the rotator cuff. A loud snap, and I'm sure my shoulder has been dislocated. I can't escape, I can't twist away, and I can't think through the pain. Through eyes clouded with tears I see Archer bringing a third knife down to my stomach. Everything pulses scarlet.

DISTRICT TWELVE MALE: LUIS THOMSEN

I cautiously step into the room adjacent to the stairwell, keeping my axe ready in case of unexpected attacks. The room is starker than the ward floors, with only a metal table in the middle beneath a hanging light. There is a tray of small tools nearby, and wires and buttons on the back wall, but for the most part the room is empty.

It's sinister, though, like the rubber rooms and the ward rooms never were. A dark feeling spreads through me as I stand there looking around the room. I shake it off and do a quick scan of the place. Nobody along the back wall, nobody behind the table. I shrug and move on to the next room.

The layout is identical, as far as I can tell. I do the same scan of the room and then back out, shutting the door behind me. Well, I told Sara that I would start on her side of the corridor if she didn't move quickly; a wry smile emerges as I think of how she'll act when I've already checked this room. I slip into the place and run a quick scan. Again, no one. I can understand- this place is pretty creepy. "Home sweet home," I mutter. Well, at least until it's time for the feast.

Where is Sara? She should have been here by now. It doesn't take that long to check-

"LUIS! HELP!" Oh no. What's happening? I burst into the corridor and into the next room. No, she's not here! Dashing to the last door, I find it jammed shut.

"Sara!" I roar, frantically jiggling the door handle. Stuck like glue. "Sara, can you hear me?" I don't hear a reply from my district partner, or anything, for that matter. There's no window on the door for me to see through, so I have no idea what's happening to my ally.

A whimper drifts through to door to my ears. Female. Sara's. Someone's hurting her and I can't reach her in order to help. I slam into the door with my full weight, but it doesn't budge. Slowly sliding to the floor, I cover my face with my hands. I've never felt so helpless. I can't stand it, either.

So what am I doing on the ground? A few days ago I totally lost it and tried to kill Sara. I'm not going to let them say that Luis Thomsen left his district partner to die; they will not remember me for letting Sara die. I will save her. I must. I stand and push against the heavy metal door, straining with all my might against it. Time after time I slam into it like a human battering ram. "Sara! Sara, I'm coming! Hold on!" Her only answer is an agonized scream.

At last the door seems to creak a little under my weight. One more good hit should open it. I grit my teeth and back up. Charging at the door, I hit it with my (less sore, fortunately) shoulder and it flies inwards.

The girl on the operating table, for a split second, isn't Sara. She moves, though, and I can see Sara through the girl's contorted face and streaming tears and blood. The surgeon appears to be a boy, about our age, and he's sneering.

"Oh, Sara, you brought a friend! Is he my replacement?" Sara gives a tiny shake of her head and cries harder, if that's even possible. She has knives embedded all over her body, and if she wasn't restrained I bet she'd be curled up around the one deep in her torso. She's been cut up, too.

"Get away from her," I growl at the surgeon boy.

"Or what? You'll snap my neck? In vengeance? Come now, friend of Sara, you could join her. It would be easier." I roar and hurl my axe. It cleaves his head open like a melon and he collapses. No cannon fires, but the floor opens up and he disappears into the gaping abyss. I rush over to my ally.

"Sara? Can you hear me?"

"Yeah," she whispers. It's obvious that speaking hurts her.

"Sara, you'll be all right. We can make it. I know we can. We'll survive."

"Luis, I'm dying." I'm not going to argue. It's pointless lying to myself about it, and if Sara's accepted it the best I can do for her is help her through it.

"Who was he? What did he mean by calling me his replacement?"

"He was my boyfriend. Archer."

"Oh. Um…" Sara manages a wheezing chuckle.

"Don't worry, he was just messing with you. He was taken by the Capitol a while back and they put him in here to kill me. Luis?"

"Yeah?" I stand up from where I've been searching the operating table for buttons.

"They sent me to the Games to get rid of me." I press a small purple button and the metal restraints unlock, freeing Sara from her bonds.

"I'm… sorry."

"Don't be. It's not your fault. Luis, you need to win. For both of us now. District Twelve hasn't had a victor yet, so this has to be the year." She breaks off in a coughing fit that leaves her doubled up and spitting blood. I sit next to her on the table and carefully pick her up. The Games have left her starved and weak.

"I had a friend like you in Twelve. She was honest and loyal and a bit of a spitfire. She even had the same hair color. Her name was Iona. And if- when I make it back, every time I look at her I'll remember you. Just like when I first met you I always thought of her. Sara, it's going to be impossible for me to forget you."

Fingers trembling, the girl reaches up and pulls a hair clip from her hair. "This is my sister's. Take it back for me?" I bite my lip and nod. Sara then struggles to sit up, but she's too weak.

"No, stop," I say, laying her back down on the table and using a lever to change the angle. Now she can sit.

"Luis, I'm honored to have been your ally." Her voice is so much weaker and her eyes are unfocused.

"Same here."

"Remember that argument we had over letting Octavian and Laken into the alliance?"

"Yeah, of course. Why?"

"It all seems… so pointless. We both knew they weren't going to live. We were too determined. And here I am, dying." Her rasping laugh cuts off in more coughing up of blood.

"Sara, please don't go." She's fading faster, her breathing shallow and rapid. "Sara, please don't." For an instant I see myself from her perspective and I'm like a little boy, pleading and afraid.

"Luis, you always were strong. Stay that way and I know you'll live."

"Goodbye, Sara." She stops living with the faintest smile on her lips. And in a way I guess she reached her goal. She wanted to defy the Capitol, and she did. She stopped playing their Games. Maybe she never planned to win? That would be doing exactly what they wanted, wouldn't it? I swing Sara's pack over my shoulder and gently brush my fingers over her eyes, closing them forever.

As I leave the room I can hear the floor sliding apart to receive both the operating table and Sara's body. _BOOM_.

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**This chapter was hard for me to write. I had had it in mind since about... day two? But it was still a very emotional scene to write. :(**

**SARA ROSS: "****To give real service you must add something which cannot be bought or measured with money, and that is sincerity and integrity." -****Douglas Adams**

**CURRENT STANDINGS:**

**Careers: F1 Athena Monroe, F2 Flavia Baxter, M2 Gray Tanner, F4 Camilla Thyra, M4 Alex Isis**

**A1: M3 Newt Hillen, M6 Chandler Mathews, F11 Bay Farris**

**Loners: F5 Delany Lavis, F7 Laken Marx, M9 Alec Ryans, M12 Luis Thomsen**

**So, have your feast predictions changed at all now? Tell me what you thought about this chapter! :)**

**And next chapter... we're breaking 100 thousand words! XD**


	28. The Feast of Fools

**It's been a while, hasn't it? Sorry. Anyway, this is the feast. Twelve tributes remaining, and the building set to blow ten minutes after the feast begins. It's time to cut the tribute pool down to size.**

**Welcome, Rubber Rooms and Deadlines, to the 100K words club! XD**

**New poll! :)**

**R&R, my vultures and lurkers! :)**

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DISTRICT NINE MALE: ALEC RYANS

I brace myself against the cold white wall as the morning sun shines its first rays through the barred windows of the lobby. The feast has arrived. The floor in front of the Cornucopia slides back as a gigantic table rises up through it, laden with the most precious things anyone could imagine. Food and drink and packs for the remaining thirteen tributes. No, wait- twelve. There was that cannon last night. And good riddance, too. It's an actual feast this year, not just a rickety shelf with packages for us all. Whole roast pigs- notice the pigs, not pig- and various other Capitol meats smell like paradise, and when they're intermingled with the scent of fresh bread… I think I could eat my fill on just the smell. There are bottles of drink there, too. Some of them must be just water, but somewhere… for me… there's alcohol. Or some type of medicine for the terrible headaches and nausea and hallucinations and weakness I feel.

And there are also parcels, of course. Big, little, medium, all labeled neatly with our district numbers and names. There! 'District Nine, A. Ryans.' They're all of a fair size, it seems. People must need a lot this time around. The wimps. I only need one thing- although while I'm here I might grab a bite to eat or possibly take a life. I see some weapons scattered among the food: swords, maces, knives, even a scimitar.

All at once the table stops and the floor slides into place around its claw-footed legs. The other tributes have come into view- the Careers all huddled together, the boy from Twelve who's the last of his alliance, the girl From Five who has a huge brace on her leg now, and of course me. I don't see the girls from Seven and Eleven or the boys from Six and Three. None of them are competition. They're probably starving to death in their rooms.

There's a flicker of uncertainty all around the room, and then we charge. There's nothing that can stop anyone from getting to that table. We don't care about weapons… yet.

"STOP!" Even the Careers skid to a halt at the sudden appearance of Bay Farris from the Cornucopia. Nobody throws a knife, nobody makes a threat. We all stand slack-jawed as she climbs onto the table.

"What are you all thinking? About to rush each other and tear each other to pieces for the sake of some food and supplies? You don't have much time. Can't we all take our things and go? This is a feast. People sit and eat at feasts, they don't murder each other! We are teenagers, not animals! We may be hungry all the time, but we don't have to kill because of it!"

"Maybe we're not humans. Maybe we're sharks!" The boy from Four, Alex, calls out jokingly.

"Shut up!" the other Careers hiss at him.

"Girl, if you don't make a valid point in five seconds, I will run you through," Flavia says, brandishing a dagger.

Bay holds up her hands in a mock surrender. "Flavia! Listen to me. All of you, just listen! I was allied with Chandler Mathews and Newt Hillen for a few days-"

"What?" the girl from Five exclaims.

"-we can talk later, Delany, just hear me out- I was allied with them for a few days and they found something. This entire building is wired to explode in, oh, about nine minutes. Grab your stuff and get out now! That's where they are. They're escapees. I came back to warn you all! Third floor, first room on the right. An open window. Everyone go! You don't have much time!"

"How do we know you're not setting us up for death while we go explore and you steal our stuff down here?" I sneer at the younger girl, "Maybe we should kill you, have the feast, and then go."

"No! You have to go! Come on, just listen to me! Run!" Delany steps forward, hobbling on her bad leg.

"I believe you, but we can't go running without supplies. We need these supplies in order to live. Bay, we can make it up there in time." I snicker as the younger girl sort of hops down from the table in defeat. I'm the only one who can see that she's taken a pack with her. But I'm also the only one who can see that the pack is labeled for District Five- she's trying to help a friend. I don't plan on letting that happen.

"She's stealing! Kill her, quick!" I bellow, and the Bay girl runs, terrified, as the rest of us continue our charge towards the prize. I'm weak but I can still push through when I need to. Otherwise I would have never made it past the public lashings back at home, would I? I grit my teeth and make it to my backpack unscathed. It's actually smaller than most of the others, and in my hurry to open it I rip the seams apart. A pile of fabric spills out and I roar in anger. What is this crap? It's lightweight, but I can feel wires running under the surface in some places. I have no idea what this thing is and it certainly isn't liquor. Has the Capitol left me stuck with this affliction?

Of course they have. They think it's funny.

A blow from behind sends me sprawling and the fabric tumbles to the floor. I roll over to see the girl from Four standing with her trident raised and fire in her eyes. I leer at her and knock aside what could have been a powerful killing blow. She tries again, but I'm standing up and the mace from the table is mine. I swing it at her head, but she ducks and jabs at my ribs. I twist and it only grazes my side. With my next attempt I send the spiked ball flying at her shoulders and she's barely able to block the spikes with the long handle of her trident. It wedges, though, between two of the metal projections and she has to work to free her weapon from its captivity. I chuckle and tear both weapons from her hands. Great. Now I have a mace with a trident stuck to it. I send it hurtling towards her head.

All of a sudden I'm lying on the ground with black edging my vision. Camilla bends over me and whispers, "Never swing that thing at someone so that they can grab the trident's handle and use the momentum of the mace to continue its path." I swear and groan, but even my greatest efforts are not enough. There's intense pain that stops about midway down my back. With what little sight I retain I can make out my chest covered with crimson. My back. My back is broken. That's the last I recall.

DISTRICT TWO FEMALE: FLAVIA BAXTER

The little girl makes a run for it and the boy in the shadows calls out she's stealing. Oh well, it's not my pack. I can deal with it. Mine's sitting right there by a brand-new shiny set of knives. I want those knives badly.

The Careers charge forward as a whole with Athena, as usual, in the lead. I grin and shove the boys out of my way as I reach for the set of knives. Beautiful.

The scent of the food is so tempting, though. It's so close to me that I can't stand it anymore. I simply watch as people clash around me to get to their things and pick up a plate of shrimp. I thought they were pretty awesome back in the Capitol. Fitting that I eat them again before I die. It's odd not having someone to totally hate. I feel… completed.

Well, not entirely. I lean back against the table as the battle rages on. Nobody's falling dead. Why is no one dying? The girl from Five has made a break for it as well, following Eleven to the staircase. She grabs a basket of bread on her way out, though. There's Camilla and Alex, conspiring. Camilla nods as Alex points across the room. They high five and Camilla begins whatever mission they have just decided on. Alex disappears back into the fray. Most likely trekking back to Athena's side like a little lost puppy dog. Or to find Gray, who is undoubtedly following our 'leader'. I propel myself off of the table and pick up my backpack. Gray will be the one to fall. Even with Adrian alive, he was the weakest link.

There, helping Athena back that Luis Thomsen from Twelve into a corner. Of course. The older boy did personally threaten him in training. Alex is nearby, watching their backs and keeping an eye on the other feasters. This isn't really saying much, since the girls made a run for it and his district partner is fighting Alec Ryans. I edge up behind Gray and whisper into his ear.

"Did you ever really think they were your friends? Talking to you, making you part of this alliance? Of course they weren't. The only person you don't kill is your district partner. They'll use you to kill that person, and then they'll finish you off. Alex? He'll be the one to strike the final blow, won't he? You don't doubt it. Ditch them. There are too few of us left. The alliance is over, Tanner."

"That's not my name."

"It's the only one you have. You've always wanted to be accepted, haven't you? Well, they're manipulating you. Get out while you can, and keep them from getting out. Gray steps back from Luis and Athena a few steps and dashes for his pack. Luis escapes and spits at Athena as he goes by, hitting her square in the face. Disgusted, she wipes it off.

"Ugh!" She turns to go after him, but really there's not much to go after. All she can see is me, now. Gray and Luis have gone to the table for their things. Greedy pigs.

"Hello, Flavia. Move, please." I laugh harshly.

"What do you mean, hello?"

"Greetings. Whatever. I've got to get him! I can't let rivals go uncaptured, it's a bad strategy. Now move, Two!"

"Aren't I a rival?"

"We may not be friends, but you're my ally and therefore it's dishonorable to kill you."

"Allies? I have not made a single ally through the course of these idiotic Hunger Games. I have simply made enemies. All of the tributes. I have killed, but I would have done more if you had not gotten in my way."

"Flavia, are you still obsessing over that? Come on, it was long ago. Sort of. You got the boy from Ten, didn't you? Wasn't that good enough? Let's go, there are other tributes to catch for you. And I have to find Luis!"

"All right then, Athena, go on." I let my dagger fall and she brushes past me. That's her biggest weakness. She's dumb enough to think that she hasn't made enemies of her own. And I'm a dangerous enemy to make. I only let a single dagger fall. I have plenty of others in close reach. I pull one out and stalk silently up behind, my backpack bumping against my spine every step I make. Athena storms the room wildly, looking for her prey. I've seen him, skulking with his pack in the Cornucopia. Athena whirls around once more and I take the opportunity to dash up behind her.

The blade thuds into warm flesh, forcing the blood to well up around it. Athena gasps and arches her back as my knife pierces her heart from behind. She has enough energy to twist around and see me there, standing triumphantly. Her hands shake visibly and she sinks to her knees.

"Flavia… why?"

"You made the mistake of trusting me," I say, checking my fingernails and placing a hand on my hip.

"My mother always told me…"

"The Games would make you or break you, I know. You're pretty broken now, aren't you?"

"Not quite." With what must be her last ounce of strength and courage, she reaches up and punches me in the face. Blood pours from my nose. "Just dying, that's all." A single tear leaks from the corner of her eye as she collapses.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I stand up. "THE LEADER OF THE CAREER PACK IS DEAD AT LAST!"

DISTRICT FOUR MALE: ALEX ISIS

"Camilla, you did it!" I cheer. We hadn't been sure about the little task at the first assignment, but Athena had thought right when sending Camilla after District Nine. The brute was weakened and actually I think any of us could have done the job. I guess it was nice of our leader to let her friend to the duty. He was high on our target list and now he's down. Camilla doesn't seem as shaken my Alec's death as she was about Skyford's. That really messed her up. I suppose being in the arena for seven days makes a person tougher. Or maybe it's just that she got used to it. I wouldn't be able to kill a person. It's the seventh day of the Games and my hands remain free of blood and my conscience is clear of guilt. Except from bringing Blue to Flavia. That was bad.

"THE LEADER OF THE CAREER PACK IS DEAD!" A triumphant shout rises up from the other side of the room. It sounds too familiar. No… no, it can't be. Athena never would have lost to her, wouldn't she? Flavia can't have killed such a strong fighter. Betrayer. Murderer. Traitor! I holler and slam the hilt of my sword onto the table in fury. No! Not Athena!

She was the one who held the Career pack together. I've got to get out of here. I see Camilla headed for the table and Gray running towards me.

"Gray!"

"Alex!" The boy from Two almost crashes into me. "Flavia did it! She killed Athena!"

"She'll be coming after us next. She probably knows our weaknesses. Come on, let's get out of here. Camilla? Camilla!" I look around for my district partner. "She'll be fine. But we can stick together." I toss Gray a sword just in case someone tries to catch us.

"Alex, I can't."

"Why not?"

"I… just can't."

"Of course you can! Look, we'll grab our packs and get out of here. Bay doesn't strike me as a liar and we can't have more than five minutes."

"I can't trust you! We're not allies! The Career alliance is over and we're all on our own now."

"But we're friends." I give him a strange look as I toss his pack to him and grab my own.

"How can I know that?" Gray's shifting from foot to foot with anxiety and I sigh.

"We just are, now come on!" I grab his arm and attempt to drag him to the staircase.

"Alex, we can't be allies anymore! I can't trust you!" He raises his sword.

"I don't want to kill you, Gray."

"Neither do I. But we can't both live, that's not how the Games work. And I was trained for this." Is he challenging me? He is. I never expected this, not in my darkest dreams. Resistance is futile, otherwise death comes quickly. I raise my thin blade and prepare to duel.

The first blow is mine, not his, and the red rage takes over as he strikes in return. I don't want to fight my friend, but adrenaline swiftly takes over and instinct is stronger than friendship. We range over the table and floor as we duel, striking and parrying and neither of us striking a blow. It's my fault. I helped him with his fighting and now he's basically my equal. And he has no hesitation.

First blood is mine. I add a backstroke on a powerful swing and a line of blood etches itself onto Gray's forearm. So little time. I glance at the staircase and try to back towards it, but Gray blocks my way with a snarl. His motion forces me to jump up onto the table and I send a crystal bowl of candied fruit flying. I could stick him through the eye or something as he clambers up after me, but I can't. I never would. This is a losing battle. I won't kill a friend. So I clench my teeth and accept the metal into my chest.

It hurts. It hurts so much that I know I've still got a few minutes left. Gray's not a perfect shot. Sure, I'll die, but I'm not freaking out like some others would. Bright lights pop behind my eyes as I take a deep breath; I think of Mom and Dad and Arietty and Bethany and Archie and the baker. I'll never see them again. I took this all for granted. I took them for granted. I took life for granted.

I'm an actor, even in my final moments. The show must always go on. So, clenching my teeth against the intense pain of it all, clutching my hands to my bloodied side, I begin my dying words. The last thing I can think of in District Four. My role. My last role. The insane man- I was insane for volunteering, I see that now. The one who was loyal to the end.

"I… I am hurt." He has two houses, does he not? His parents and then that awful man who trained him to kill me like this. I won't be able to finish the part at all, I'm much too far gone. "A plague… on both… your… houses…" The last burst of adrenaline gives me strength for one last line, as my mind fades my acting is all that remains. It was so much more worth it than the Games, in the end. "YOUR HOUSES!"

The last scene of all, that ends this strange eventful history, is second childishness and mere oblivion, sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

DISTRICT ELEVEN FEMALE: BAY FARRIS

"Delany!" The girl winces in pain as she limps up the stairs slowly.

"So, you were allied with those boys, huh?" I grimace.

"They made me stay with them so I wouldn't tell anyone about the bomb. They didn't want any other survivors." She still seems skeptic, but oh well. We will live and that's what matters.

"So how did you get the chance to tell everyone else about this impending explosion?"

"Oh, I was just kind enough to let them escape first," I say as I help Delany climb. She throws her head back and laughs.

"And then you went and grabbed my pack, not yours. You're a saint, you know that, right?" That's what Skyford said to me when I invited him to the first alliance. I bite my lip. "Okay, sorry for what I did, or said, or whatever reason you're upset now. Maybe you should have grabbed your own, though. You'll die if you keep trying to save me. This is unnecessary!"

"I'd feel worse about you dying than about me dying. I'm prepared to sacrifice myself for a friend."

"So am I," the girl from Five replies. She starts taking the steps two at a time, even though it must hurt her terribly, "We need to get out of here fast." I agree and support her even more. We need the energy to run away from the hospital after we get to the terrain below.

"This floor! Go, go, go!" We move as fast as we can into the room that the boys have escaped through. The broken window is clear of sharp edges, we made sure of that, but the floor is littered with glass shards. I pick my way through the mess and Delany follows. A blast of hot wind hits us both in the face as we look down on the vast, flat terrain outside. Outside!

"How did the boys get down from here? We're pretty high up." Delany sounds worried. I reach down and my hand brushes against the metal rungs.

"There's a ladder thingy. Well, not really a ladder, but these metal handholds that are all over the outside. Sticking my head out the window, I can see lots of others dotting the side of the building.

"Well, then, let's go!"

"You first." I nudge Delany towards the window.

"No! You go!"

"You move slower. You'll need more time to run away from the explosion zone. I'll follow." Delany sighs and slowly lowers herself from the window onto the handholds. I watch as she slowly maneuvers her way down the building.

"Out of the way, squirt!" A panicked voice barely precedes a rough hand shoving me away from the window and almost leaping out. Luis Thomsen from Twelve heaves himself over the edge and swings onto the rungs. "Last one down is dead!" Delany is at the bottom of the building now, running as fast as she can away from the hospital. I glance over at the timer. Four minutes forty-one seconds remaining. I edge out of the window and test the handholds. Solid, good. I've never liked heights. And there's nothing to stop me from falling.

A shadow envelopes me for a split second and I freeze, but it's someone who has just jumped out of the window. A slight figure hits the ground in a roll, then leaping up unharmed. Wow. Then I see the blond hair and knives and realize who it is. I scream out to Delany, but my voice is lost in the wind and she can't hear me. Luckily, Flavia turns the other way and begins to run, leaving the others alone. I clutch the handholds tightly as I probe for another with my feet. It's not my fault I'm small! Finally my foot hits metal and lower myself about a foot down. I need to move faster.

Another figure scoots past me on a different set of rungs. This time it's a boy, but it's still a Career. Gray, I think. So Two remains strong in the Games- it has both its tributes. Where are the others? They should be coming by now, unless they've all died. I shake the thought from my mind and continue my descent. So close to the bottom! I need to focus. I can't have more than three minutes left.

"Hey!" Yet another voice calls from above. Camilla Thyra, third of the Careers to arrive. That makes… how many? Newt, Chandler, Flavia, Gray, Delany, Luis, me, Camilla. Eight so far that I know of. I haven't seen Laken Marx at all, so she could have escaped. That leaves Alec, Athena, and Alex- wow, all those A names- who must still remain as stubborn tributes or as corpses. I gulp and continue moving. Delany's getting further and further away as I get closer and closer to the ground. Ten feet… nine… eight… seven… I jump the rest in my urgency.

The jump leaves the wind knocked out of me when I make contact. The ground is a lot softer than I expected, though. Very warm and sort of grainy. I've never felt something like this before. It's like soil but not as messy. I roll over and see Camilla descending. I've got to move. I don't have much longer.

A rumble proves my point. The building has the slightest tremor, and three cannons sound. Deaths, or the beginning of an explosion? A louder rumble echoes in my skull. No, deaths. That's the explosion beginning. I turn and run as quickly as I can.

A chunk of plaster falls from the middle of the wall towards the ground. Camilla screams and holds herself tight against the wall, but it's not enough. The plaster seems to scrape her off the wall and slam her into the ground. Another cannon fires. She looks simply dead spread-eagled on the ground like that, like a candle that's been snuffed out or perhaps a delicate flower that has had its stem snapped. A broken neck, I'm guessing. Tears well in my eyes as I look at the building. I'll never make it. Camilla is dead and I will follow. It trembles once, and then…

Fire. Fire and ash and chunks of stone and metal. I turn my head away as the building goes up in a colossal, awful, beautiful explosion. The shock wave- I see it begin, forcing flame and rock and smoke outwards and upwards. Then it expands towards me. And my life doesn't even have time to flash before my eyes.

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**I'm sorry if this chapter seems rushed, well, because... it was. :/ It was painful for me to write. I just killed several popular tributes and kept some unpopular ones alive. Hopefully this evens out the odds a little bit and kept you on your toes. Really now, you can't have expected all of those deaths.**

**OBITUARIES:**

**ATHENA MONROE: "A leader is one who knows the way, goes the way, and shows the way." -John C. Maxwell**

**CAMILLA THYRA: "I think a hero is an ordinary individual who finds strength to persevere and endure in spite of overwhelming obstacles." -Christopher Reeve**

**ALEX ISIS: "Real heroes are men who fall and fail and are flawed, but win out in the end because they've stayed true to their ideals and beliefs and commitments."****- Kevin Costner**

**ALEC RYANS: "It is necessary to have wished for death in order to know how good it is to live." -Alexandre Dumas Père**

**BAY FARRIS: "I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge - myth is more potent than history - dreams are more powerful than facts - hope always triumphs over experience - laughter is the cure for grief - love is stronger than death" ****-Robert Fulghum**

**CURRENT STANDINGS:**

**Escaped: F2 Flavia Baxter, M2 Gray Tanner, M3 Newt Hillen (A1), F5 Delany Lavis, M6 Chandler Mathews (A1), M12 Luis Thomsen**

**Unknown: F7 Laken Marx**

**So, everyone, tell me what you thought and vote on the new poll! **

**And to the six or seven tributes remaining... may the odds be ever in your favor.**


	29. Seven Pieces- Of- Eight

**Taking a break from the Games this chapter- sorry to the people who wanted more gore and death, etc- to write the Top Not-Quite-Eight Interviews! :) I'm using the POV of the same little girl who decided to sponsor Rowne Mercer in the chapter 'Calm Before the Storm'. Hope you enjoy! R&R!**

* * *

CAPITOL GIRL: TARPEIA CAESARION

My mother got me a brand-new dress for the Top Eight Interview premiere party tonight! I'm the only girl in my class who has been invited to attend. It must be because I have the highest scores in the class. But I get to go and Silvia doesn't, and that's what matters.

The dress is lime green with royal violet trim and it even has a royal violet cape trimmed with lime green to go with it. There are matching shoes that we couldn't get because Mother said I wasn't old enough yet. Hmph! I'm thirteen- in one year I'll be allowed to pigment my skin. I should be allowed to wear high heels. And at twelve you can have minor surgeries. Silvia has jewels embedded in her nails already.

But I still get to attend the premiere. Everyone else has to wait until tonight, when it's broadcasted all over Panem. Six hours early, that's fantastic! And, of course, I got the invitation, which means only one thing- I'll be a special guest for the widespread broadcast! A select few will comment on the premiere together, and usually one of them is a regular citizen. And this year, it's me. Take that, Silvia! I'm so excited, even if it does mean I have to miss out on the live stream from the reality shows. They get more realistic every season. 'President Riker's Women'? Highest reviews in the nation. I'm sophisticated enough to watch it, too.

Father's private hovercraft comes at three in the afternoon to take us to the premiere. I'm in my dress and Mother is putting the finishing touches on my hair. It matches the dress, with its lime-and-violet streaks. It was plain brown when I was born, but as soon as I turned five I got it done white. And I can streak it to match my outfits.

The ride is over quickly, but this is one of those occasions when the trip doesn't have any consequence at all. They gave us live stream from the tribute hovercrafts on the day of the bloodbath. You would not believe the anxiety of those District scum! Some were really sad, though, like Rowne. I almost feel bad for giving half of my sponsor money to him. It was pointless. And now Alec is dead, too, what's the point? That money was wasted! It's in the tribute treasury. If a mentor feels their tribute should have something, they can petition to take money from the treasury.

Octavius Cairns himself is waiting to escort me from the hovercraft. I am the special guest of the night, after all! A camera crew- Avoxes in metal gear- documents my arrival. Octavius kisses my hand and I blush under my makeup.

"Welcome, young lady! You were chosen out of all the young Capitol people for a special appearance on this premiere! Are you excited?" He looks exactly as he does on the screen! This is marvelous!

"Oh, I'm simply ecstatic!" I squeal. He smiles his dazzling smile and leads me into the camera room. Five luxurious black chairs sit in a semicircle in a small room, with a screen behind them. I almost gasp at the company I'll be keeping. Cornelia Thames herself, Head Gamemaker! Naso Caecilius, Head of Tribute Presentation, who arranges the chariot rides. Tigris, costume designer for District One since the Games began- she was young then, just over sixteen. The youngest of the Games staff. And, of course, Octavius and myself.

"Will everyone please take a seat?" Octavius says, checking his ornate watch, "We're on in five minutes!" I rush to the chairs, but end up hesitating until the others have chosen their seats. I sit between Tigris and Head Gamemaker Thames. Tigris smiles warmly at me, but Miss Cornelia sits stiffly, staring straight ahead. Avoxes come up and adjust makeup; one attaches a microphone to the collar of my dress.

"Live in five, four, three, two, one!" The anthem blasts from hidden speakers and little red lights blink on all the cameras.

"Welcome to the semifinal interviews for the Seventeenth Annual Hunger Games!" Octavius booms, "As you know, it is tradition to perform these interviews when there are eight participants remaining. However, this year, with the abrupt change in scenery, there are only seven alive at this time." We have conducted interviews with the families and close friends of these tributes- first up, the ferocious Flavia Baxter of District Two certainly has some support among the Capitol. Let's see what her family has to say!" We all turn our attention to the screens, where a film clip begins to play.

Octavius sits in a shabby little house in Two. He looks so out of place! I mean, the home is basically a Capitol slum.

"I take it you are Flavia's family?"

"Yes," says a man in his twenties who's sitting on a sofa, "I'm her older brother, Colton, and these are our parents." Two older people nod at the camera.

"Ah, Colton Baxter! A previous victor." The young man nods.

"So, as a mentor for Two and the sibling of a tribute in these Games, what would you say Flavia's chances of survival are?" The parents try to cut in, but nobody really wants to hear from them. Previous victors are much more interesting.

"I honestly think she'll some back to us. I might be biased, of course, because she's my sister, but she's strong and everything. You saw her at the reapings. She didn't actually volunteer, but she made sure nobody else did either. She had a concussion, so I was worried at first. But you've seen her in the arena." Everyone chuckles. "She's formidable! And she has motivation- two years ago, our younger brother Fray died in the Games. That changed her then and I think it's helping her now."

"I'm glad that you have hope, Colton," Octavius says jovially, "Thank you for your time and may the odds be ever in your sister's favor!" As the clip fades, I catch a glimpse of Flavia's family's faces- all shrouded in sorrow and anxiety.

The live Octavius flashes another smile at the camera and then turns towards the four of us. "If you viewers at home haven't noticed, I have some special guests with me tonight. First of all, Cornelia Thames, Head Gamemaker!" I can almost hear a tinny applause track playing in the background. "Sitting next to her is young Tarpeia Caesarion, a thirteen-year-old Capitol citizen with outstanding character. Next in line is Tigris, the famed stylist who prefers to use only her first name; last but most certainly not least is Naso Caecilius, Head of Tribute Presentation! You can thank him for the astounding chariot rides you see each year." Octavius begins a round of applause for us and I can't help but smile. "So, what do you think of Flavia so far?"

Tigris elects to speak first, in her growling tones. "She's a character. Vital to the spirit of the Games so far. She's been a great provider of action. However, I don't think she's as outstanding of a figure outside of the arena."

"I disagree," Naso barks, "If Flavia is capable of what we've seen in the arena and in training, she has the ability to become a famous and popular victor. She has the strength and determination to get out of the Games alive. Miss Thames?"

"She's got one of the best physical shots at victor," the Gamemaker says thoughtfully, "She was well trained and she's not afraid to do whatever the Games require of her to do and more. It's wonderful entertainment." This makes me sort of upset.

"I don't like her. She just likes to kill and she's not interesting at all," I pipe up, "She's barely human. She's more like a robot that's programmed to kill. That's not fun. It gets boring really fast." I'm only sort of exaggerating. She was neat through the bloodbath, but by the time she got to the boy from Ten she got old.

"The girl has a point," Tigris says. Naso glares at her.

"Well, well, folks, let's let the populace decide for themselves, all right? The next tribute- Gray Tanner, also of District Two!"

The footage this time is set in a training room full of weights and weapons and machines. I can see four kids running around doing things in the background while a huge man takes up most of the foreground. Octavius is dwarfed beside him.

"Mr. Granite Tanner, I presume?" the announcer says cordially. The immense figure nods. "So, what can you tell us about Gray's life here in Two?"

"The first thing you ought to know is that he's not actually my son. I have a little thing where I picked kids up off the streets and took them in about seventeen years ago. Gray was one of the five children I selected. I've been training them for the Games almost since they began. They were supposed to volunteer next year."

"So Gray's actions at the reaping were totally unprecedented?" Octavius sounds interested. "What courage!"

"It was only because he knew he wouldn't make it next year," a muscular boy whines, pushing his way onto the screen, "Everyone in the district knows I'm much better than he is!" Granite laughs, a booming sound like thunder.

"Yeah, Gray was the absolute worst of all the kids. No athleticism whatsoever. Pik here-" he pats the boy on the shoulder, "- could have been my son. I'm so proud of him." Suddenly three more faces appear in the shot.

"Well, I think you should be proud of Gray," a girl says, although her eyes aren't focused on the screen, "He was brave enough to volunteer early, even though he's not very good. Mr. Cairns had a point with that."

"Good one, Darla," a skinny boy whispers, but Pik hears and punches him on the arm.

"I might as well let the rest of these trainees speak," Granite growls, "because you'll hear from two of them next year." He seems very angry, though, as he retreats. The skinny boy rubs his shoulder and straightens up, along with the girl who hasn't spoken yet.

"And you are?" Octavius asks.

"Watcher," the boy says. The girl introduces herself as Anna. I notice that she's holding a very intricate rope snare in her hands.

"And how do you feel about Gray's chances of survival?"

Pik snorts. "He's a weakling and a moron. He'll never come back."

"I think you're the moron, Pik. Gray's smart enough to come back and he's still been training his entire life." Watcher ducks another punch.

"Boys, just shut up!" Anna rolls her eyes as she pushes her compatriots apart. "Gray's not the best of us, but he's made it this far and I think he has a chance. And right now all we can do is hope."

"Well, Miss Anna, what a diplomatic answer! Thank you for your time, and I hope to speak to you again." Octavius signs off from Two and the image fades away back to the premiere room.

"The boy seems to have a mixed support group," Naso observes. "He's not the strongest tribute remaining, of course, but he's a general good kid. Normally this will be common in bloodbath tributes and maybe a few others, but he's kept his character thus far and survived. And he has a kill, as we saw last night during the broadcast of the feast. A friend of his, which shows that he has strong will. At first I don't think anyone thought he would live, but his odds increase the longer he carries on."

"He's a little hesitant and he's certainly not the best one out there," Ms. Thames adds, "but anything could happen with the arena totally changed."

"He fades into the background," Tigris says, "He doesn't have Capitol support because he's simply not very interesting to us." I nod and decline to speak when Octavius asks my opinion.

"Continuing on- Newton Hillen of District Three's friends and family have something to say!" The screen flashes to a quiet District Three home where a cluster of hastily set up chairs- we can see the extras scattered in the background- is occupied by four teenagers, a man, and Octavius. The unfamiliar man is looking around; finally he calls out.

"Lynette? Lynette, we're starting the interview!" A woman bustles onscreen, pulling safety goggles from her eyes as she sits in an empty chair.

"Sorry," she says breathlessly, "I tend to get sidetracked." Octavius laughs and assures her that she's perfectly fine.

"So, what are you thinking of the twist in the arena?"

"The explosion?" the woman says. Octavius nods. "Well, it was clever." She doesn't say anything more for a moment and the silence starts to get awkward.

"I don't think anyone was surprised that Newt figured it out, though!" the lone teenage boy says, "He's just that intelligent." The room erupts into laughter.

"If there's one thing we can count on, it's Newt's mind," the tribute's father says, "The boy takes after his mother in that respect- he's always working on some science experiment or math problem or something." The oldest teenage girl starts crying.

"Oh, Jaz, are you all right, honey?" Newt's mother comforts the girl. She must be Newt's older sister, but she doesn't look anything like him or act like him from what I can tell.

"It's just… just that he's stuck there… and we don't know if he'll even come home… and for all we know… he's already dead!" She buries her face in her hands.

"Don't say that!" One of the other girls speaks sharply, "Jaz, Newt's the smartest one out there and we saw him escape the stupid explosion yesterday. The odds are in his favor!" In fact, none of the girls look like the tribute. The tribute profiles that come on the day before the Games told me that Newt has one sister, so the other two must be friends.

"But… what… what if? Adonia, what if he's gone?" Jaz is still sniffling.

"He won't leave us. He can't. Now stop talking about it, because Laya's gonna start up soon." Adonia puts an arm around the quietest girl and gets a smile in return.

"Ah, Laya! Were you the one Newt was talking about in his interview?"

"The one who kissed him," she says, blushing heavily, "Yeah that was me." She's so sweet!

"Do you think he'll come back?" Octavius questions her with the enthusiasm of a gossipy teenage girl.

She bites her lip as if holding back some kind of unpleasant feeling. Sorrow? Anxiety? "Yes. Newt's going to return." With that, the screen blacks out and leaves the five of us ready to comment.

"Definitely a Capitol favorite," Ms. Thames says, grinning, "And I'm not sure why. He's awkward, weak, and not even a boy who stands out from the crowd. All he has is his brain and the Games can't always be won with mind power. I don't know when the time will come, but I just can't see him pull through to win it all. A scrawny boy from Three- he's the least powerful of anyone remaining!"

"But even you said he's intelligent," I argue, "And that makes up for at least part of his lack of strength. I think he's curious and quick to act, and certainly he has character. He's witty and loyal. And people do like him! You're just a businesswoman. You can't see why he's popular. You can't see beyond your own opinions! I bet you didn't even come up with the arena idea. You probably stole it from somewhere!" The other adults burst into laughter.

"Oh, she got you good, Cornelia!" Naso says. "I may dislike the boy for his weakness, but she has a point. He's curious enough to break out of your arena, and therefore he's one-upped you. And this girl has one-upped you by using him, which should put you in your place!" Ms. Thames fumes for a while as Tigris, Naso, and Octavius guffaw. I cross my arms and smile at her.

"And… now… onto… Delany Lavis of District Five!" Octavius cries, wiping tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes.

The scene is loud and distracting and Octavius looks more out of place here than anywhere else so far. It's like a whirlwind of girls has taken over the place, and the two guys in the District Five mess look sort of squished.

"So, welcome to the semifinal interviews!" Octavius says, "How are you feeling right now, knowing that Delany has survived to this point of the Games?"

"Pretty awesome," a dark-haired girl says cynically, "It's been great watching my friend almost die, break her leg, almost die again, make a friend in the Games, mouth off to the trained tributes, go to the feast, and almost get blown up. Just lovely. Best time of my life."

"Beth!" another girl, this one redheaded, shrieks, "We should be celebrating the fact that Dee's still alive and be hoping that she makes it home, not dwelling on her misfortune!"

"Sorry to squash your optimism, Jesy," the one called Beth apologizes, "I'm just missing her."

"We all are," a younger girl says. She sounds like someone I would get along with- mature and sensible.

"Good point, Lydia," the teenage boy says. He runs his hand through his hair sort of nervously before opening his mouth again. "I know I've missed her a lot. We've known each other since we were toddlers and all of a sudden she's thrust into this life-or-death situation and none of us can help her."

"Harry!" Jesy says, slapping his arm lightly, "We have helped her already! If it wasn't for the fund we started, she might have never gotten that leg brace!"

Delany's father chuckles. "Well, kids, if it weren't for me you still might not have gotten enough."

"Yeah, Mr. L was really great. His job pays really well, so he was able to give a chunk of the cost of the brace."

"We all pitched in," says Delany's mother, "It's for Delany. We all just want her to come back home." They nod. The youngest girl, who's been fidgeting through the entire interview finally speaks up.

"Are we gonna be on the television, Mister Octavius?" The famous man nods and the girl beams. "Hi everyone! I'm Barley and I love my sister Dee!" The last thing I see before the footage stops is Delany's mother burst into tears.

Everyone back in the room seems hesitant to speak, so I go first. It's overwhelming, speaking out like this on national television. "I like Delany. I hope she wins. She's mature and determined and she's not weak, whatever any of you say. Sure, she broke her leg, but she could just manage to pull through!"

"Whatever you think, little Tarpeia, doesn't affect the outcome of the Games. Delany got the lowest score in training of any of the remaining tributes." Naso goes to shoot down my opinion.

"Actually, Mr. Caecilius, Delany's score was the cause of an unfortunate mishap. You see, she had performed well up to the time she was making this snare- her knives were about to score her a six and the snare would have pulled her up to a seven or an eight, but then she managed to trap herself. Her conduct from then on was poor enough to bring her score back down. Her skills are sufficient for her to defeat several of her competitors." Naso turns bright red.

"The question is," Tigris wonders aloud, "Are they enough to bring her home? She doesn't have that much support in the Capitol, although her numbers have gone up since Bay Farris's death."

"And a very good question indeed, dear Tigris," Octavius says, "I guess we'll find out soon enough!" He flashes his trademark smile. "On to Chandler Mathews of District Six!"

A modest if shabby home appears, occupied by Octavius and four District Six citizens.

"And how are you lovely people feeling about Chandler's experiences in these Games?" The woman dabs at her eyes and sniffs before answering.

"He's so young- nobody so young has won the Games before. He's only thirteen, why does my baby have to go through all of this? It's not fair, it's not right! He should be at home with us, not fighting for his life in the Games!"

"Shh, shh, it's all right," her husband says, "Chandler's smart: he's got an ally and he even made it through the bloodbath. He's sure to return to us."

"It's not that I'm worried about!" she exclaims, "It's the effects of the Games. Who knows if he'll be the Chandler that left us. The other victors never come back the same. And he's only thirteen. Who knows what the arena will do to his mind?"

"I think he's strong and he'll recover just fine from whatever the Games throw at him. I mean, once we were playing ball and he broke his nose. And then he just kept playing until the game was over!" The boy onscreen speaks up at last. "I'm Friedrich by the way, Chandler's friend. Hi."

Octavius attempts to direct the interview away from survival and post-traumatic stress disorder. "So, what are your thoughts on the explosion?"

"That would be epic if people hadn't died," Friedrich says immediately, "But Chandler got away and so did his geek friend, which means it's still pretty cool. It's sad that the Bay girl died, but if we want Chandler back she had to go."

"A twist no one expected," Chandler's father says, "but my son and his allies figured it out. A great achievement, to be sure."

"As long as there aren't any other close calls and Chandler makes it home, I will consider it an overwhelming display," the woman says carefully. In the background little footsteps patter along and a little girl calls out.

"Momma? Momma, what's going on?"

"Oh, look, that'll be Michelle. We've woken her up. That's it. Interview over!" And so the interview ended.

"What a quaint little district," Naso comments, "Too bad the boy's too young to make it much further." Cornelia and Tigris and Octavius seem to agree with him that a thirteen-year-old won't make it to the end, although they disguise it in the form of neutrality. I try not to blush. I gave money to a weaker thirteen-year-old. Rowne. And I'm thirteen myself- I would like them to give the boy a chance. And I find myself wanting Chandler to pull through. I almost miss the Seven girl's interview, but I pull myself together.

"And here we are with Tennan and Luna, two of Laken Marx's friends here in District Seven. So, would you care to explain why we're not meeting with Laken's mother and father?"

"Tennan's mute, so don't bother asking him things," Luna says dreamily. The boy with her grins and rolls his eyes, but remains silent. "I guess Laken's mute too, now, so we'll all have a mute party if she comes home."

"That's lovely, Luna, but about Laken's family?"

"Oh, her father's a drunk and he's indisposed and her mother's in a coma. You can talk to us instead." She begins to turn and walk away towards the trees not too far in the distance.

"Where are we going?"

"The forest. It's nicer there." The footage shakes as the cameraman follows the trio into the trees.

"So, have you ever met Merry before?"

"The girl who's inside Laken? Yep. We just thought Laken was being weird though, so we never mentioned it to her. I've seen Merry twice. It's only when Laken gets afraid, though. Once we got lost and once Laken's dad came to find out where she was. Those are my Merry experiences. Laken did seem a bit confused when she came back to her senses, though. I wonder why we never brought it up. Tennan?" The boy shrugs.

"What were your reactions to the explosions? Did you think Laken was dead?"

"Not really. She was never shown with the dead or anything. Where is she, anyway? We haven't seen her since the feast, and she was just roaming around then."

"Well, we're not sure. Her tracker isn't signaling death and it's still working fine, but we're not sure what condition she's in. She made it out, though. We know that." Luna and Tennan high-five and Luna gives Octavius a hug.

"That's great! As long as she's still alive!" The clip ends on that happy note and the cameras focus once again on the five premiere attendees.

"That's sweet," Tigris says offhandedly, "Her friends seem carefree and happy. It's a nice break from the others' gloom."

"Tigris, can we focus on the girl?" The feline woman examines her claw like nails and ignores the question.

"The girl has a way of escaping from the trauma. Her other self, Merry, seems to protect her from the pain and sights of the arena enough for Laken herself to remain stable. It's a good idea, but Merry's so unpredictable I really have no idea where Laken will end up- dead or alive, with allies or alone, friendly or cruel, even sane or insane." Cornelia's stumped by this tribute.

"She's unique. That's what we love about her!" Naso holds up his hand in an imaginary toast, "And her Capitol appearance did no harm. District Seven was huge in the chariot rides."

"Laken's a wonderful person," I start, "But like Ms. Thames said, she's unpredictable. I don't even know how I feel about her. She doesn't get to say anything so we don't know what she's feeling."

"And we won't know much else unless she comes out on top and we can fix up her neck in a hospital," Octavius says darkly, "Anyway, moving on, our last remaining tribute is Luis Thomsen of District Twelve!"

Scene change to the dimmest, dirtiest District of the night. I don't think Twelve has had a single person make it to the top eight interviews until Luis did it. He's powerful and smart and he doesn't fade into the background at all. I wanted to sponsor him, but my brother Lucretius whined too much.

"So," begins the Octavius onscreen, "how are you reacting to Luis's experiences in the Games?"

A teenage boy a few years younger than Luis speaks up in a really irritating nasal voice. "I think my older brother is an idiot. He could have had a place with the Careers and saved himself from the trouble of dealing with the insane girl and the sick boy and that Sara girl who didn't even matter. He's just too loyal."

"That was always Luis's problem," the older man says. "He was overly attached to his friends and it's already been backfiring on him. He makes a target of himself to the people he doesn't like and he's much too willing to sacrifice himself for the people he cares about. If he doesn't shape up he should just die and get it over with." Octavius seems astonished.

"You're his father!"

"It wasn't my choice who my child was. That's his decision and if he screwed it up, it's on his head."

"I think my son is brave and determined and that his loyalty is an honorable trait," the woman says. She seems worn down and it takes a lot of energy for her to use so much emotion.

"Rose, you're sick. You're so stressed out that you don't see him for who he is," the man says in a much warmer tone.

"Don't talk down to me, Damion. You know very well that I would leave you if I was well enough. You're afraid of me, so don't you patronize me. I will leave this house."

A teenage girl sitting at the woman's side smiles at her words and the man cringing under their power.

"Um, to keep on topic, I'm Iona- Luis's friend. We're just friends, mind you. Capitol tabloids had better stay away from me or else. I think he's been real heroic, with his allies, especially Sara. She was terrific, and I knew they would do whatever possible to return home. They wouldn't have hurt each other, not really. I think they were a really great crisis team and I just hope Luis can manage on his own." Nobody else has anything to say, with Rose Thomsen staring daggers at Damion and her other son.

"Well then!" Octavius says back in the studio," that wraps up the last of our semifinal interviews! Guests?"

"I really want Luis to win," I say, "He's got as good a shot as any of the others- a better chance than most, I think. And I wanted to sponsor him before the Games even started."

"You've got good taste there, Ms. Caesarion." Naso says, "The boy is one of my personal favorites as well."

"Too much of a hero for my taste," Tigris says, "I root for the underdogs."

"Everyone does love an underdog," Ms. Thames says, "It adds more drama to the program."

"And this is Octavius Cairns, signing off until tomorrow. Happy Hunger Games, Panem, and to the top seven tributes- may the odds be ever in your favor! Good night all!" The anthem plays and the cameras click off. After this fantastic evening, I'm already bored of waiting for the action to start up again.

* * *

**So, if you haven't figured it out already, Laken lives. We don't know in what condition, but she lives for now. :) I hope you enjoyed this! I tried to make it a unique version of these interviews, so I hope it turned out all right. :) And next time we'll be back to the Games. All right? All right. **

**Tell me what you thought! It may have not had much action, but still share your reactions. :)**


	30. The Capitol Picks Favorites

**Back in the arena, we're picking up exactly where we left off- right after the explosion. **

**New poll.**

**R&R, my vultures! :)**

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DISTRICT TWO MALE: GRAY TANNER

The explosion rumbles behind me as I adjust the tawny pack from the feast on my shoulders. The little girl from Eleven was right. The arena did blow up. And I barely made it out alive. And… and I killed someone. Who was it? Adrenaline still fogs my memories.

Alex. The realization strikes me again just as the shock wave does and I don't know which one knocks me over. There, as I lay on the ground with grit in my mouth and the heaviness in my heart, my actions begin to haunt me. Why did I go after him? We were allies. We were friends. But were we? In the heat of battle, I wasn't sure. I fought him and I killed him in cold blood. That's not who I am. That sounds more like Flavia. I really only remember the sheer rage and intensity of the adrenaline pumping through my veins. How have I never felt like that before?

I've never been in a fight like that before. I got knocked out in the bloodbath and then this was the next big battle. My first time really fighting for my life against others. Sara Ross and I sort of fought the day Adrian was killed, but we weren't really fighting to kill, not then. But at the feast it was a whirlwind of death and blood and anger, and the rage… took over. I push the thought out of my mind. I did not kill Alex. It was another boy there, one with my looks and my voice. A boy with the words of Flavia in his mind.

I mentally transfer the blame to her. She used her worming, treacherous words to turn me into a beast ravenous for blood. Flavia used me to split our alliance and kill who knows how many people. She's alive. I know she is. And I'm alive too, even though I don't deserve it. I should be dead. Alex deserved life. He had friends and a home and a family waiting for him to return. If I go home, I have Anna and Watcher. No family, an unfamiliar house, and nothing to look forward to except years of teaching other kids how to kill.

A nagging doubt, deep inside, firmly tethers the blame to me. Whatever cause I had, it was my hand that ended Alex's life. And what else can I do? Kill again. I can't. The repercussions are too much. I can't do it again. The guilt alone would kill me. Who would I have to kill? Flavia's alive. I could maybe kill her. The boys from Three and Six. No- I couldn't hurt them. Luis Thomsen made it, too, and the girl from Five. I can't kill them. Is there anyone else?

BOOM. The cannons. Oh my goodness, the cannons from the feast. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. Five dead. So there are seven of us alive. I have six, for sure. Alex is dead, Alec is dead, Athena is dead. That leaves… the girl from Eleven, Camilla, and the insane girl from Seven, the one who lost her voice.

The best I can do now is avenge Alex. Flavia will not return home. My mind is clear now. Maybe I can finish her, or at least hurt her enough so that one of the others can do the job. I have to survive, though, and what's the first thing Granite told us about survival? Assess the situation.

I stand up from the ground, my legs shaky from the shock wave. Carefully examining my surroundings, I begin to explore this place outside the hospital arena.

It's a desert. The terrain is sandy with some small dunes here and there. In the distance, dark dust clouds mark what must be the edge of the arena. No plants or outcroppings in sight- or, for that matter, tributes and mutts. However, there are pillars of rock scattered randomly throughout the landscape. They tower at least twenty feet high, twisting spires of stone that are the only disruption of the smooth desert. They provide the only shade, although shelter is still pretty much nonexistent.

It's burning hot. I've been out here for an hour at most and I'm parched and sweaty. They expect us to survive out here with these thin, ragged scrubs and minimal supplies? They won't even have a final battle at this rate. I trudge over to the nearest spire and lean against it.

I haven't even opened this pack from the feast yet. I doubt, though, that it will have anything of consequence now. Wearily I slide the beige bag from my shoulders and peer inside.

A heap of dust-colored fabric and wires tumbles into my hands. I frown and hold it up with one hand. It's a jumpsuit of some sort, lightweight and camouflaged with the sand. It has tubes within the cloth, though, and weird pockets and technology all over it. What's the point? If it came in the feast packages, it must have a purpose. I shrug and quickly change into it from my tattered scrubs.

Immediately I feel better. The material is loose but not clingy, and somehow it feels like it's lifting the sweat away from my skin. I allow myself a grin and investigate the new gift a little more. There's a sort of hood attached to it with a visor that covers and shields my eyes. I feel like I'm wearing a Peacekeeper uniform, but less bulky.

I step out of the shade of the spire and roll my shoulders. With this gift we'll all be able to last a bit longer- so we can kill each other. It offers no protection from weapons, just heat. I have a sword and a tiny bit of food left. I don't know how long I can last, but it will have to be long enough. While Flavia is still alive, I can't let myself be defeated. I have to make it longer than her.

But do I really want to go home?

DISTRICT SIX MALE: CHANDLER MATHEWS

The afternoon sun seems to cook us like eggs on the sidewalk, or maybe even ants under a magnifying glass. Newt's face and arms are bright red, and I can't look much better. The arena exploded, but we can't hope that the people who escaped are terribly injured. I feel guilty for hoping so, but it would mean Newt and I have a better chance of going home. Besides us, there are five. Five tributes to defeat. Technically six, I suppose, but Newt and I are still allies. Alliances rarely last this long, but with the right minds an alliance can be indefinite.

"Newt, do you think Bay survived?"

"I don't want her to die, if that's what you mean. But I won't sacrifice myself for her if she still lives."

"I understand." The girl may have made my life extremely awkward for three days, but she was an ally and she was kind. "But do you think she survived?"

"I can tell you that she went to the feast to warn the others, and that's why five of them are still alive. But the odds at the feast weren't in her favor. Five people died, too, and that means there was still a fight. They didn't entirely listen to her."

"If she got away from that, she's fast. She probably could have made it out."

"It all depends on…"

"…what happened at the feast." I finish Newt's sentence. "If anyone was one of the five deaths, I hope it's Camilla Thyra."

"Because she attacked us?"

"Yeah." More guilt builds up in my gut. I don't like wishing death on people, yet I do it again and again.

"She did lead us to the discovery of the bomb wiring."

"Yeah, but it was a painful road." I gingerly touch my side and wince, although more from memory than from lingering effects. Newt stifles a laugh.

"I guess you're right on that one." We both smile this time and continue onwards. We're going to the crest of a relatively high sand dune, so we can see what's going on from high ground. It's also fairly far away from the remains of the hospital, so we can catch any tributes trying to sneak up on us. The problem is, it's still far away from us, so we have to walk all the way to it in this sand and burning heat. And we're basically out of water, so we have maybe a day until we start losing it. Maybe.

"Newt! Hey, Newt! What's that up there?" A shadow crosses over our paths and we look up. A shiny round thing descends from the sky. A silver parachute. The sign of a sponsor gift. Newt grins, a genuine smile, and I high-five him. "Yes!" They've seen us now, out there in the Capitol, and people want us to live. They're sending us the things we need to survive!

I leap up and snatch the parachute out of the air once it gets closer. With four nimble hands tearing at it, the parcel attached to the silver cloth comes open easily. A pile of tan cloth spills out, something that, after a few seconds, gets both of us excited.

"Do you know what this is?" Newt says almost giddily, holding out the fabric.

"Of course!" I reply, "It's one of the water-supply suits designed during the rebellion for missions in arid locations. It keeps you safe from sun and basically recycles your body water. Sweat, saliva, anything. It wicks it off and filters it through tubes into pouches all over the suit. It provides you with basically an endless supply of drinking water!" I feel like one of the girls in Six squealing over a new trend or something. Newt and I are just that ecstatic.

"Chandler… there's only one." Newt hands me the suit and digs back through the sponsor parcel. He comes up with two full water bottles, but not a second suit.

"Well, that's dumb. There are two of us." I pick up the parachute. It's marked with a 3 and a 6 on the top, meaning it came to both of us. "Why only one suit?" Newt paces back and forth in the sand. "One suit… one wearer. What else is there one of?"

"One victor," I say darkly, "They're picking favorites. Whoever the suit fits, they want to live. They're separating us, Newt. They don't want any more alliances."

"And what if it fits both of us?" he says, "We're not that far apart, just two inches or so. Survival suits are made big. Even if it was going to be for me, you could wear it."

"Newt, it's meant for you."

"I'm the weakest one here. It must be for you."

"Weak people have won the Games before. Think about it. Who hasn't won the Games? Young people. They don't want a thirteen-year-old surviving over people like Luis and Flavia and Athena. They want you to live."

"I'm sorry, Chandler." Newt whispers. Then a glint shows in his eye and he smiles. "But maybe I don't have to be."

"Further explanation, please."

"We can both wear the dumb suit. There's extra water here. So, we trade off the suit every few hours. We'll beat the system!" I almost cheer at Newt's refusal to leave me. I don't want to believe that the Capitol wants me dead, but it makes sense. Newt and I are just too smart for them. We can survive this arena any day, with our minds and some water. We'll make it to that dune and camp out until the Capitol wants us to move.

"But you wear it first," I say, "If there's a chance that they didn't hear our theories, let's keep up the act. You wear the suit first and give us a few hours before they send the mutts." Newt gives me a short nod and pulls the survival suit up over his grimy scrubs.

DISTRICT SEVEN FEMALE: LAKEN MARX

It's a scene from one of those old movies- the ash from the fiery explosion still is settling. The scorch marks and the crater still smoke. Everything is quiet. Then, footsteps from one side crunch on the terrain and a person steps into view. They survey the scene with a cold eye, but they're still close to tears. Nothing is said as they see something in the destruction and reach for it.

It's me, this time. I don't remember much, nothing actually past leaving Sara and Luis. The old bloodstained bandage is still wrapped around my throat and I don't want to touch it. But I remember this. I'm here and the remnants of the hospital are obvious, lying strewn in front of me. I faintly recall escaping by window, but it's more like I'm watching myself do it instead of actually performing the action. A sheet of paper flutters in a slight breeze, and I reach for it. It's a miraculous survivor of the explosion. I was almost blown apart as well. I didn't go very far from the building. I didn't know it was going to blow. I just… or she just… climbed out a broken window that she found this morning.

The other girl, the one inside of me, might have saved my life. I break down, totally break down, and start bawling at the very idea. There's a girl inside of me and she saved my life. She protects me from everything. I almost crumple the paper in my hand before I remember it and smooth it out. Only a few words are readable; I can see 'Athena'- we're not talking about the tribute, are we?- 'Father', 'knife' and 'Odysseus'. Wasn't there an old story- like, old before Panem existed old- about a guy named Odysseus and his journeys and he got help from made-up gods? Why would someone have it in the Games? It looks like it was part of a backpack from the feast.

Wiping away tears from my eyes, I look for more remnants. A few scraps of cloth, a few dented metal shards. I find most of the Cornucopia covered with soot in the exact center of the crater. It's in the middle of a heap of rubble from six floors of hospital. Maybe there's something salvageable inside of it? I reach up to haul myself over a small pyramid of concrete blocks, struggling to find footholds. The rubble isn't very navigable, and this hot sun certainly isn't helping. I haven't had food or water in more than forty-eight hours. It's getting harder and harder to breathe.

I make it to the top of the heap and sit down to survey the next obstacle. Actually I'm right near the Cornucopia. Smiling, I run my hand through my dark hair. It's like a familiar landmark, something that stayed through the game-changing explosion.

There's something wet on the back of my head. I pull my hand away, astonished, and see the crimson stain on my hand. Blood? It looks like blood. It smells like blood. I don't plan on tasting it.

It doesn't hurt. I'm glad for that. Everything's just calm and quiet and rather nice, if scorching hot. Fairies flutter in the breeze. Laken shudders with sobs.

No! No! She can't! That girl will not take over right now! I don't trust her!

You should, Laken, you should. I'm here to protect you. I just want to keep you from harm!

She can't! The insane girl who steals my body will not do so right now! I want to keep control of myself and work through this on my own! I can't live half a life! I want my mind back! It's like I can feel her fighting for control inside my head. I look down at the blood dripping off my fingers and clench my fist. A tear leaks from the corner of my eye.

I just want to keep you safe, Laken.

I just want to be by myself for a little while, Merry. If I had any liquid left in me I would be breaking into a sweat right now. However, I've been out here for at least twelve hours in what must be insanely high temperatures. I have nothing left, especially since I haven't had water for days anyway. I may not have been myself then, but I can feel it. No water, no food, no shelter.

If there's nothing to help me live, how can I? Blood oozes down my neck. I must have been knocked into one of the stone pillars by the shock wave and it gouged me.

A centaur canters past.

I want to cry, but there's no tears left for me to expend. Luna and Tennan will have to cry for me, because I know Father won't. He won't care. He won't notice. Instead of bawling I take a deep, shaky breath and slump down into the shade. At least it doesn't hurt. I never wanted it to hurt. It's better this way.

At least I have this chance to talk to her. I can't use the words, but I have my thoughts still.

Merry? Merry, are you there? She will listen. She is me. Merry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for wishing you didn't exist. I'm sorry for being afraid of you. I'm sorry that you will die with me. I'm sorry you had to take care of me just to die with me like this.

Laken? Laken, will you remember this? Laken, it was great. I got to exist. I protected you, even though you don't need it any more. We made a pretty great team, even if we never really met.

I close my eyes and think about whimpering. I'm afraid. I'm really, really afraid. I can't move, it's all cold now. It still doesn't hurt. I'm glad it doesn't hurt.

In fact, it's quicker and easier than falling asleep.

DISTRICT THREE MALE: NEWT HILLEN

We trade off quickly. It's at the time right after the switch that we move the quickest. The person who wears the survival suit is re-energized with the cooler material and the person who just gave it up still has the sort of aftereffects of the water and shade. We moved so much faster.

And, of course, it's much more comfortable in the suit. Chandler has worn it once and this is my second time wearing it, and we strongly agree that it's a game changer. The people with suits have a much greater chance of winning. It's not about weapons anymore. It's about surviving the elements too.

The crest of that sand dune can only be an hour or so away now. Chandler shades his eyes with his hand and peers into the distance.

"Still no sign of any competition. It's getting late. We should find out who else is out here about the time we reach the top of the dune," he says. I nod. The faces will be shown just about then if we keep up this pace.

"So let's keep a move on." It's starting to feel like walking through mud. Every time we take a step it sinks beneath our feet and slows us down. Speed is no advantage in a fight anymore. They're going to force the fights by skill or stealth. We don't have skill so we have to use stealth. I wonder what that will mean in a fight. We have one knife between us. There will be trouble if we don't watch our backs carefully.

We march on in silence for a little while. In the survival suit, it's easier to think about things other than blazing heat and walking. I'm worried. It can't be this easy to beat the favorites system. If the Capitol doesn't want Chandler to win, they'll find another way to get rid of him. And if they want to keep me, they'll find a way to keep me.

And right now Chandler is a target. He's just walking tiredly there beside me. I have the suit and the supplies. If they killed Chandler I would still have everything. It would be a big bluff… but what if Chandler kept wearing the suit? Maybe, just maybe, they would be more hesitant to kill him off.

Eventually, as I ponder the idea, I become aware of the gentle rasping of shifting sands. It almost echoes our footsteps, but it's not from our footsteps.

"Chandler, take the suit." My ally gives me a strange look.

"What? No, it's still your turn."

"Chandler, it's a long shot, but they may be less likely to kill you if you keep the suit on."

"Well if it's a long shot, you keep it. You just put it on. Keep it fair and let me take my chances."

"Chandler. Take the survival suit." The noise hasn't stopped.

"You keep it for five minutes and then drain the water pouches. Then I'll take it." I worry, but his tone of voice tells me it's the final deal.

"All right then. Five minutes." We're close to the dune. I sort of associate our destination with safety, whether it is true or not.

The sky begins to darken and the colors of sunset appear on the horizon. We will soon discover who escaped the hospital.

"We need to get to high ground," says Chandler, "if we can, track anyone else's positions, an-". He's gone. Just… gone. With a roar the sand shifts and a huge lizard emerges from underground, wolfing down my ally with a gaping maw full of razor-sharp teeth. I immediately dub the creature 'the sand dragon'. It swallows once and then turns its cold reptilian eyes on me; I'm so paralyzed by its beady, evil gaze that I barely duck behind a rock spire in time.

The sand dragon seems mollified by its meal and it doesn't lunge again. It scrapes its teeth against the rock spire where it tried once and then the rasping sound of the sand returns. It's burrowing underground. That's the noise I was hearing. It had been following us, waiting to strike until it pinpointed its prey. For a moment it's drowned out by Chandler's cannon.

Chandler's family won't even get a body. They'll only get the news of his death. I sag against the column of stone with unstable legs and grieve. He was my friend. We were allies, and even though we knew each other for less than two weeks we had shared the most traumatic experiences. And Chandler was only thirteen. He was by far the youngest one left. Anyone else his age was dead by the end of the bloodbath. He never deserved to die. The Capitol was choosing favorites. They chose me over my ally.

They never would have let me beat the system, would they? They give us hope, by allowing me to escape and letting me think Chandler would live. They let one of us go home. They give us hope but barely enough to keep us alive.

The sky lights up with the Capitol emblem and anthem. There will be seven faces in the sky. There was the one cannon earlier in the afternoon, Chandler, and the five from the feast and explosion.

The first face to appear is the girl from One. That's a surprise. With a name like Athena and a score of 10, I expected her to live and possibly to kill me. Neither of the tributes from Two is shown, though. They outlasted their leader. Of course, I'm alive, but then they show the boy and girl from Four. No. Three Careers in one day? How the odds have changed.

The girl from Five must have made it, because Chandler is the next face in the sky. I cover my face with my hands for a moment. He's gone. My ally is really dead. I look up in time to see Laken Marx's face fading into Alec Ryans'. Another surprise there. The brute was a candidate for victor. There is one more face waiting in the wings. Bay or Luis Thomsen?

It's Bay. She, yet another unnecessary death, died trying to help the others. Bay and Chandler dead in one day. They were both too young.

It hits me right then. I've made it to top five.

With four deaths to go until I go home, there's no one left in the arena that I wouldn't kill.

* * *

**You want to hear something really sad? Chandler and Laken died on the day that their families and friends were interviewed about their survival. They could have even died before the interviews were broadcast.**

**OBITUARY QUOTES:**

**Chandler Mathews: "A fairly bright boy is far more intelligent and far better company than the average adult." -John B. S. Haldane**

**Laken Marx: "The lunatic, the lover, and the poet are of imagination all compact." -William Shakespeare**

**CURRENT STANDINGS:**

**F2 Flavia Baxter, M2 Gray Tanner, M3 Newt Hillen, F5 Delany Lavis, M12 Luis Thomsen**

**Final five have arrived, everyone! I only know the top three from here. Please tell me what you thought of this chapter! :)**


	31. The Power of Three

**Day Eight of the Games. Five tributes remaining. No more polls, although if you haven't voted go ahead and do so; I'll be updating the choices. Enjoy, my vultures! R&R! :)**

* * *

DISTRICT TWELVE MALE: LUIS THOMSEN

Great. This is just terrific. A blazing hot desert with weird rocks everywhere and earlier I saw what looked like a giant worm with wings burst out of the sand a few kilometers or so away from me. That was when I sort of retreated into this little cave I found. A small pile of rocks formed a nice shady spot. Even better, the pile is semi-concealed in a valley between the dunes, so it's less likely that someone will find me. It's not like I'd just stay here, anyway. It's been a little over twenty-four hours since Sara's death. My promise to avenge her and return home still weighs heavy on my mind.

Thinking of Sara still makes me think of Iona. Oh, I don't even know what I would have done if my best friend had died like that- if she had died at all. Actually, I don't know what I'm doing now that Sara is dead. That mutt makes me truly despise the Capitol. Archer was real. That was actually her boyfriend, just changed into a killer. By the same people who decided to send twenty-three kids to their deaths every year and leave one with mental trauma for the rest of their life.

I fiddle with the leather necklace Iona gave to me. I can't just stay in this outcropping forever. The Capitol will send something or someone after me and kill me. The only way to make sure I live, or die by my own actions, is to keep on the move. And to kill. I've done it twice now. Adrian and Archer. And the second won't even be recognized as one of the fallen teens. Just another mutt to clean up. I'll have to kill again if I want to go home, the Capitol will make sure of that. Who's left for me to finish off? The two from Two, that shouldn't be too bad. The younger kids from Three and Five, a boy and a girl. I'll have to go insane before I could hurt them.

At this rate that might be what happens. I'm sure the heat would have caused me to lose my wits hours ago if it wasn't for the garment in my pack from the feast. They also sent me some water and food- not Capitol food, but the hard bread from Twelve. It tastes like home.

I shoulder my pack and crack my neck before stepping into the sun. Eyes watering, I hold my axe a little higher. I can't let my guard down because it's bright. I haven't seen a cloud at all since the explosion of the hospital. The night was cooler, but barely. The suit is the main factor in keeping me alive right now. I take a hesitant step away from my shelter, checking to be sure no one is ambushing me. No attackers emerge. I'm safe for now. I jog across the open sand to a pillar of rock, catching my breath in its shade. Uphill runs in sand are exhausting even if it's only a hundred yards.

I continue my zigzag pattern carefully, finding short routes to the next stone column and surveying the landscape for my opponents. I haven't seen anyone yet. This arena is much bigger than the hospital though. More places to hide away from the killer kids. I'm sure they'll push us together, though. They won't want us to die of starvation or something boring like that. They want our blood to be spilled.

I grit my teeth as I dash to another spire. It's miserable, but better than death. We're all reduced to little more than survivors at this point. My guess is that most of us are reduced to murderers, too.

Suddenly, I hear a weak moan from the other side of the pillar. Gripping my axe tightly, I swing around to the source of the noise in a spray of sand. A tribute is curled on the ground in the fetal position, pressed up against the side of the pillar. They're wearing a survival suit thing, so it's harder to tell who it is, but I figure it out. District Two, Gray Tanner. I said earlier I would have no problem killing him.

Easier said than done. I have already taken down one of his former allies. Adrian died by my hand in Gray's presence. I also remember that Gray tried to recruit me to the Careers. It didn't work, and that was the first time I threatened him. Now he's almost unconscious at my feet, totally at my mercy. I don't want to have any, but I do. The axe is frozen by my side.

Gray stirs as I watch him, struggling to sit up from the fetal position. He notices me with puffy dark eyes and brushes some sand from his hair calmly. He's not afraid. Even I can tell that.

"Are you here to finish me off?" he asks, croaking.

"I could be," I snap back bitterly.

"Please."

"What?" How could someone want to die when they're so close to going home?

"I don't want to win. I don't deserve to go home. They don't want me there, so just kill me now. Please, Luis. I know you're strong enough."

"Everyone who's still alive deserves to go home. We're all survivors. We're all animals, but we made it this far. Four more are going to die, and you want to volunteer for the first slot?" He nods. "Why?"

"I killed him. Alex."

"Weren't you two buddies at the feast?"

"Not through it."

"You killed him."

"In cold-blooded rage. Yeah. I killed my friend. I don't even know why, so don't bother asking." He managed a sniffle and then continues. "He deserved life, you know. He wasn't like us. He never planned to kill, not really. We've killed. He didn't. He was noble to the end."

"Good for him. And you killed him."

"Yeah. So will you kill me?"

"You mean, so I can be guilty too? I'll have murdered two Careers."

"Think of it as a gift." A wave of bitterness washes over me. Gray gets to die because he chose it. He will die silent and unafraid. Sara died sobbing and screaming in pain and fear. Nothing is fair. Nothing makes sense anymore. But I don't want Gray to have to die horribly by mutt or other.

"Goodbye, Gray." I try to make it as painless as possible, aiming for his neck.

Four left.

DISTRICT TWO FEMALE: FLAVIA BAXTER

Luckily, I'm already hunting when the cannon fires. One more kill that I will never get a chance to make. I kick at the sand, getting some inside my shoes. Ugh. I miss the air-conditioned hospital where people were all trapped close to me. Out here it's torturously hot and everyone is scattered. I only have three more chances. Three! Possibly even two. It is beyond even my standards to kill someone from home. How will I ever be accepted again if I've ended Gray's life? I hope that was his cannon. Then I could finish off the weaklings from Five and Three easily and maybe give a good show with Luis from Twelve.

I can go and find the survivor of the most recent kill and take them down. Good, good. There's the hovercraft, motoring over to the scene of death. I hightail it away from my sand dune and follow the huge silver aircraft to its destination. I'm still a fair ways away when it dips down its claw to pick up the dead body. I can make out the figure of a boy. He's older and more powerfully built, so it's either Gray or Luis. Good. One of my biggest rivals. That's not saying much, though. I'm going home, easy. And having some fun along the way.

I stalk across the sand dunes, tracing the path of the hovercraft. It's nothing but a tiny speck in the distance now, taking the corpse back to the Capitol for cleaning up and transport back to its district, but I can remember where it stopped. The other tribute won't have had cause to go far since then. They're forgetting that I hunt; they still are under the impression that nobody will want to confront them. Idiots. He or she will lose their miserable, unimportant life for this mistake. And Flavia will have yet another kill.

There, I can see them moving as a dark spot against the sand. Well, I can't see them, thanks to the camouflage on the new arena outfit, but their shadow stands out like the escort on Reaping Day. The other one of the two strong boys, it looks like to me. Good. I break into a full-out run, going full tilt towards my prey. There's no escape now. They don't even see me coming. I'll be able to tackle them before they suspect anything at this rate!

Just as I'm getting close, they turn their head. I'm seen! No! They boy breaks into a sprint, making up for his ignorance earlier with his long legs. And he's not as tired as I am. I've been running longer than he has. This isn't fair! I can't lose another kill! I keep up the chase doggedly, pursuing the boy relentlessly. I can feel the burn in my lungs and in my legs, but I refuse to stop. It's too late now. I'm too close to let up.

Even better, it's Luis Thomsen. A viable kill that I will take advantage of. And I can even justify it to anyone who calls me a ruthless sadistic killer by saying that he killed Gray. I am a sadistic killer, but that's not a very sophisticated image in the Capitol. I can act like it anywhere, but I also need reason for some things. Not every action can be ruthless or I'll be carted off to the asylum. I'd like to keep my freedom.

I'm a smart sadist.

Luis is starting to slow down. This is one of those times where training comes in handy; my endurance outlasted him and I'm gaining ground once again. Luis is sort of running with a limp, like he twisted an ankle or is just getting tired. I hope he twisted an ankle. If he's tired he won't scream as loudly when I get him.

I'm so close to him now that I could throw a knife and hit him. That would slow me down, though, and I want to make this kill in person. There's more satisfaction in that. I want to feel the life drain out of him and hear his heart stop beating. I want to see the look on his face when I pierce his skin. I want him to hurt.

"Gotcha!" I cry, propelling myself through the air and landing on his back. He collapses with a groan underneath me and swears loudly. They'll bleep that out in the recaps and I laugh when I watch them. "Tried to run, didn't you? It'll hurt more now for that. You have to pay for everything. You will die and I will revel in your blood and pain!"

"Flavia…" he hisses, but I push his face into the sand.

"Oh, you knew it was coming. You were just afraid, weren't you? You were a coward, Luis." He roars and sends me flying away from him.

"I am NOT a coward," he says through clenched teeth.

"Then tell yourself that you die a hero," I say, simpering sweet, "Tell yourself anything you want, boy. But you'll still die. And I'll still laugh." He charges at me, but I sidestep and trip him as he passes. This is too funny! He slides to a stop on his knees, and I pull out my longest knife.

"Let's have some blood for the audience before you go, shall we? This is getting close to the finale. We need a big show." I laugh as the knife descends.

DISTRICT THREE MALE: NEWT HILLEN

The scream draws me to the scene. I'm simply too curious to find out what happened to worry about my own safety. As I walk, I realize how stupid that is, but my curiosity drags me onward. Ah well. I guess I wouldn't have been able to stay much longer at my dune anyway. The vantage point and the little scoop I dug out for myself in the sand weren't making me feel very safe. I was too anxious. Walking makes me feel a little better, even though it's brutal in the sun.

I trek on, taking my sweet time in the shade of the spires and moving at a swift trot through the open. There hasn't been a cannon, but there was one earlier. It relieved me. I didn't have to kill that person. And at this rate I'll be down to two opponents in a few minutes' time.

Another cry splits the air. I'm closer to the crime scene than I previously thought. Gulping down my fear to let adrenaline take over, I manage to keep taking steps (even though they are getting smaller). It's the hardest thing I've ever done, and that includes not fainting after Laya kissed me.

I reach the top of another dune and crouch down on the other side of the hill's crest. I can't risk being seen if there's a fight going on. The ferocity of the combatants could carry over after one of them fell and end up causing my death. I don't plan on dying. A little voice in my head asks me why I bothered coming if I don't want to get hurt, but I shrug it off. My sleepy motives don't matter right now. My survival does.

I don't even notice the figure coming up behind me. I'm too focused on trying to figure out where the battle is. I don't want to go over the top of the dune to discover I'm suddenly in the midst of the melee.

Apparently she doesn't notice me either, because seemingly out of nowhere I'm falling over and someone's crying out in surprise. It might be me, it might not be.

The girl from Five rolls away from me and winces as she regains her footing. There's a huge bulky brace on her leg, which she's obviously favoring. Her eyes are wild with fear.

"Delany… right?" I venture to ask quietly. For a moment she just stares at me, but then she nods.

"And you're Newt." I shake my head 'yes' with enthusiasm. Yes, that's still who I am.

"You were Bay's old ally?"

"Yeah, and so were you, apparently." She glares at me.

"She went back to save you."

"And she died in the explosion just after. She made me go out the window first." I swallow what feels like a lump of grief as Delany recounts the event, fiercely blinking away tears.

"She was a good person." The girl from Five nods. "So what's the noises? What's happening?"

"Flavia Baxter and Luis Thomsen. Fighting. Right over on the other side of the next dune. They scared me out of hiding. I was hiding at the opposite side of that rock thingy and I heard someone scream. I bolted and collided with you."

"How did you bolt with that broken leg?"

"The brace helps support it. I've gotten fairly used to walking. It hurts, though. Wait- how did you know it was broken?"

"Bay told Chandler and me."

"Didn't he die?" I nod, biting my lip as I recall the dragon.

"Well, we're still here. Come on!" It seems like Delany is just happy to find someone who won't kill her on sight. I follow her over the crest of the sand dune and creep up the side of the next. Now that I'm closer, it seems obvious where Luis and Flavia are fighting. I can clearly locate the sounds of metal screeching on metal. Delany and I peek over the edge of the sand, barely letting our heads rise above the terrain. It might not really matter. Delany's hair is light brown and mine is full of sand. We're probably disguised well with our survival suits.

The two older tributes battle intensely, taking no notice of the two of us watching them. I'm terrified and I'm not even fighting. Delany seems equally horrified. Flavia has a deep cut on her upper right arm, but Luis is bleeding profusely from his ribs, forehead, and left knee. He's faltering more and more, but Flavia teases him, giving him nicks on his arms and back. He's forcing the pain back, making himself concentrate on beating Flavia. He's losing strength fast, though. It looks like he's about out of time. Flavia's thinking the same, and the next time he hesitates to gather strength she scoops up a hand of sand and throws it in his eyes.

Luis howls and drops his axe, reaching to rub out the grains of sand. Flavia kicks him square in the chest, sending him sprawling across the ground. With a wicked sneer, she selects a fresh knife from her (probably infinite) supply and tosses it to herself, gloating.

"Look at you, District Twelve, all laid out like a roast for carving. Not so strong now, are you? I'll give you this: you're not as cowardly as you seem." Luis can only manage a scowl, and even that looks difficult.

How do you watch someone die? I haven't had to do that yet. Delany squeaks involuntarily as Flavia stabs down. I shut my eyes.

"Newt!" she whispers frantically, "Newt, he's still alive!" I force my eyes open. Sure enough, Luis has rolled away from Flavia's death blow with the last ounce of his energy. He lets his head fall onto the ground in defeat, however, as Flavia prepares to strike again.

"Not for long," I mutter to Delany. But she's not there. "Delany?" She's jumped up. She's going to fight.

DISTRICT FIVE FEMALE: DELANY LAVIS

It's instinct. I think Bay rubbed off on me or something, because I just can't let Luis die. I sprint down the sand towards Flavia, pulling out my dinky weapons as I do so. Even my knife isn't as good as Flavia's, but it's still something. I have one shot. It has to count. If it doesn't Luis will die and then Flavia only has to turn around to kill me.

As it is, she's so absorbed in getting her blow landed this time that she doesn't see me or hear me rushing her from behind. Single-mindedly, I drive my blade between her shoulders. A shrill scream slices the air, followed by the cannon blast. The girl's body sags on my knife and I let it all fall to the ground. Flavia is dead. I killed Flavia. Me.

It doesn't really register. I didn't expect it to. As her body falls, Newt scrambles down the slope behind me, gasping in surprise. "Delany… you… you…!" I wave him off and move to Luis's side.

"Thanks, kid," he says, too weak to lift his head from the sand.

"Those wounds are pretty bad," Newt says.

"Thanks for noticing," the older boy says dryly. Newt blushes.

"I… I mean…" Luis forces a small smile.

"Welcome to the top three," I say to both of them, "Where two of us die and the third goes home forever guilty and messed up in the head. Possibly missing a limb, too." That's not the pressing issue on my mind, surprisingly enough. I pull out a roll of bandages that I found in my pack from the feast. "Luis, I can't promise that it'll save you, but it will stop the bleeding."

"Why would you want to save me?" he says, "I'm your enemy, and you're mine. It would be easier for you to kill me."

"What you're really saying is, 'I don't want to kill you'," Newt analyzes.

"Fine, kid, whatever. But why save me?"

"Because you don't deserve to die." I say simply, "And I want someone else here. They'll be less likely to force the final battle if there are three of us instead of two. We can wait another day before killing and dying." Newt looks at me all surprised, like he's thinking 'not bad for a normal kid'. Too bad we can't all be nerds. He's had that label since the interviews. He told everyone that he did his homework at the reaping.

A parachute slowly descends from the sky. I reach up for it and tear at the package like some sort of wild animal. A tube of ointment rolls into my hand with a piece of paper wrapped around it. 'THE LAST SPONSOR GIFT', it reads. I show Newt and Luis.

"So, no more support. Lucky us," Luis quips, "At least they're holding the mutts back for now."

"Luis, hold still," I say, The off-white creamy stuff must be for him. I squeeze a glob into my hand and then plop it on the gash on his ribs. The man gasps and cringes.

"Are you trying to kill me, girl? That stings!"

"It's a good thing, Luis," Newt pipes up. I wait until he seems a bit better and then apply a generous dab to his knee. I don't know what it will do or how much he needs, but at this point he'll die if we don't do anything. So this stuff is worth a shot. I squirt some on his forehead as well and smear it around in the wound.

"Newt, can you help me?" I give him a length of the cloth bandage and he begins to wrap it around Luis's head. He's not too hopeless, actually. I bandage the ribs and leg while Luis tries to relax. He's lost a lot of blood. He needs to rest more than anything else.

"Stay away from mutts, all right?" I say. Luis is probably the most likely to kill Newt or me in cold blood. I don't feel safe staying together. Apparently, neither does Newt, who has stood up and is glancing over his shoulder.

Luis grunts and looks at us. "Will do, Mom." I smile weakly. "I suggest you guys go. We don't know what the Capitol will do. Newt and I take the opportunity to flee. Luis turns away from us and makes a wobbly attempt to leave the area as well. Flavia's body needs to be collected.

Several minutes later, I get the feeling that someone is watching me. "Newt. Come out." I turn around to see him appear from behind a rock pillar.

"How does it feel to be a killer, Delany?" he asks flatly.

"Pretty normal. It hasn't sunk in yet. I just… killed her. I don't know." His look is one of total distaste.

"We're not who we used to be. None of us. Imagine how Bay would have reacted. She would be afraid of us. Afraid of you."

"Are you afraid of me, too, Newton Hillen?"

"I don't know. It's all too real now. It's so real I can't believe it. I feel like I'm some sort of beast. Base instincts are all I act on now. Hide, eat, run, sleep. There are predators and prey. I'm not even sure which is which."

"Bay and Chandler sort of kept us anchored. Now that we can't protect them or be friends with them anymore, we're free. Free to kill and rage and hurt and die and worst of all, free to not be human."

"I guess." He looks totally miserable. I hug him, which seems to sort of freak him out.

"Sorry." He smiles sheepishly.

"It's all right. Goodbye, Delany. At least one of us will be dead in twenty-four hours."

The sad thing is, he's right. And I don't want to die.

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**Top three have been revealed. And you may have to wait a while before the next chapter, because I have absolutely no idea what will happen.**

**OBITUARIES:**

**Flavia Baxter: "Every murderer is probably somebody's old friend." -Agatha Christie**

**Gray Tanner: "The world has no room for cowards. We must all be ready somehow to toil, to suffer, to die. And yours is not the less noble because no drum beats before you when you go out into your daily battlefields, and no crowds shout about your coming when you return from your daily victory or defeat." -Robert Louis Stevenson**

**STANDINGS:**

**M3 Newt Hillen, age 15: With his sharp mind and his determination to win for his young, dead friend, does Newt have the physical strength it takes to win? Will he get home to his family and the friends who miss him?**

**F5 Delany Lavis, age 15: She started out as a quiet, awkward girl who was afraid. She's learned so much. She's backtalked the Careers. Can she push all the way through to win the Games? **

**M12 Luis Thomsen, age 18: Blunt, loyal Luis. The oldest and most powerful of the remaining tributes, with a promise to keep. The Capitol favorite, now. Will his wounds or maybe his reluctance to kill children keep him from his home?**

**So, I need three things from you in your review, in addition to anything else you want to say. One, who you want to win. Two, who you think will certainly NOT win. Three, your logic behind these.**

**Tell me what you thought! :)**


	32. Dead Heart

**This. Is. It. After five days of debate and a day of writing, this is it. This. Is. It. Oh, don't get me wrong, it isn't over. But this is it. R&R!**

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DISTRICT TWELVE MALE: LUIS THOMSEN

I awake to a howling wind and a jolt of fright in my stomach. I ache and sting all over from the wounds Flavia gave me before her death, and I have to grit my teeth in order to keep from crying out in pain.

There are three left. I can make it home. I just… have… to… survive. Let's make it easy. These two kids are complete strangers to me. I made a promise to Sara, though, and I knew her well. Vengeance for Sara and my own life are more important that two fifteen year olds. It has to be. I have to be determined.

Hah. I am determined. I reach out and grab my axe, hauling myself to my feet as I do so. I will return to District Twelve as our first victor. I will be able to see my mom and Iona again. I have to be strong mentally.

I stumble out of my cave and look in horror upon the arena. The sky is a dark gray and it seems smaller, like the walls of sand on the borders are closing in. The wind whips sand into my eyes and unbalances me, almost in the manner of a cat toying with a terrified mouse. Except I'm not terrified. I'm bitter and focused. I hope.

The borders are indeed shrinking- and fast. The dark wall seems to grow taller even as I watch it. They'll be wanting us to collide at the center of the arena, but I don't want to go back to the ruins of the hospital. I prefer the sand to the crime scene. I crack my neck and use my axe as sort of a walking stick to keep myself steady. No point reopening wounds and crap if I'm only taking a stroll.

I shuffle across the dunes, keeping an eye out for the others. Newt, as far as I know, hasn't had a kill, but he's probably really intelligent. Delany is self-contradictory in my eyes- she killed Flavia but then helped me. She'll be more likely to flat-out attack me. Newt will run.

The sand wall creeps closer and I can see now that it's not just a wall. It's a sandstorm, raging in a dry squall until it reaches us. Maybe it'll stop when someone gets sucked into it. That would be an easier way to take down one of my competitors- a solid push into the sandstorm and they'll be out for sure. Ripped to shreds by whatever the Capitol is sending towards us, and I'll be one step closer to home.

They must be running toward the center. So, I'll go and stay near the sandstorm, and try to find one of the others. Delany has that leg brace and Newt isn't physically strong. One of them will be in my path somewhere along the way.

I sit on top of my little outcropping and squint, trying to retain my sight but still shield my eyes from the flying sand. It doesn't work too well, but I don't want to open my eyes and have them completely sandblasted. It would be like having someone throw a handful of coal dust in your face, but grittier. So I continue squinting. I don't see any tributes or for that matter, mutts, but I decide to start moving. I don't know how fast that sandstorm is really moving.

I stretch my legs as best I can and lean on my axe again. My weight makes it sink annoyingly deep into the sand, but when I'm walking I won't be relying so heavily on my weapon. I roll my eyes and start my trek. It's a tedious, slow job, but I think it's going well. I'm circling around, staying ahead of the menacing borders and watching for any hidden dangers.

The hospital is a black heap of rubble in the distance, but it's closer than I thought it was. Wasn't I further away earlier? I've been on a fairly loose curve, but I have also stayed about the same distance away from the edge of the storm. Which means only one thing. It's moving extremely quickly. I snarl and glance at the cliff of wind and sand that's closing in. I'm much too close to it now; in fact I'm barely fifty yards away. I turn and make a beeline for the center of the arena, just as the others must have.

The sprinting doesn't last very long. My wounds begin to burn and my lungs hurt. With the sand I must be breathing in added to the sand I have to run through added to the fact that most of my movements during the Games have been short and stealthy, not flat-out running, I'm exhausted practically immediately. I use my axe to aid me again and I can lope along at a reasonable pace, twenty feet ahead of the 'point of no return'. It's taxing and I'm afraid I'll slow down.

I cannot. I simply cannot afford to slow my pace. This is for Sara, for Gray, for Adrian, and for me. I allow myself a roar of determination and lunge forward with the little bit of extra energy I can still pull up. Luis Thomsen will not lose his biggest battle- even if it is between himself and a cloud of dust. I refuse to die here.

Gritting my teeth against the pain of the deep wounds, I march on. The air is filled with sand now, and it's hard to see or breathe. I hold my free hand up to my eyes to block out some of the tiny particles, but it doesn't help much. Looking back at the sandstorm, I find that it's almost upon me. I'm beside myself with fear. Almost literally. I feel like there's someone else operating my limbs- I'm just watching from outside. By dropping my axe and running, I gain a few yards, but the pain is too great now. The wound on my leg is bleeding heavily again, the blood staining the survival suit and the bandage.

Finally I trip and fall. I'm not giving up yet, though. I crawl on my forearms as fast as I can with the force of the sandstorm bearing down on me. I twist around to look at the tsunami wave of sand and think that maybe it won't be so bad after all.

Wait, no. I can't think like that so close to the end of the Games.

But the hyena face, butt-ugly just like in the textbooks, pops out of the sandstorm, cackles, and I scream as something grabs me by the leg and holds me back as the wave of sand rolls over me.

DISTRICT THREE MALE: NEWT HILLEN

As soon as I register that the sandstorm is getting close, I scamper to the nearest dune and start digging on the side that's facing away from the towering clouds. When you get caught in a blizzard, you're supposed to dig yourself a sort of snow cave and huddle there until the danger is past. A sandstorm can't be that different, can it? It's the best strategy I have, anyway. I know I can't outrun it.

Scooping at the sand, I make a small indentation that's just large enough for me to fit inside. The sandstorm is just a hundred yards away when I squish myself down into the hole and cover my face with my hands. I don't want to die. I can't die. It's not real, it can't be. I'm only fifteen. I can't just die. There has to be another way. For Chandler and Bay and my family and friends, there has to be a way for me to survive!

The roiling sand seems to slow down as it approaches me, like it's gloating over a catch. What the crap? It's probably just my imagination, but… I could outrun it. I brace myself for the consequences of a stupid decision and leap up.

It was slowing down for a catch. Luis Thomsen struggles forward on his hands and knees, but it's too late for him. A mutt, a hyena-type thing that's hideous and huge with almost sentient eyes leaps from the sand and chomps down on Luis's leg. My breath hitches and I wince as the older boy screams. The sand creeps forward as human and beast struggle in the sand, but the hyena drags Luis back. He disappears into the sand still shouting raggedly, leaving only finger tracks behind where he clawed at the sand. The howling of hyenas fills the air and the sandstorm pauses to let its inhabitants do their dirty work. I take the opportunity to get further away from the new edge of the arena.

BOOM. The second-to-last cannon blast echoes in my skull and I allow myself a few moments of rest to mourn Luis Thomsen. He was the strongest of the last three, and the one who scared me most. But he made it this far and he's undoubtedly been through a lot of stuff. He didn't deserve to die, not really. None of us did, even if twenty-three of us will.

The sand seems to be satisfied with killing one person; it stays where it is, although the arena can't be more than a kilometer in diameter now. Delany and I will have to fight. I gulp and pick up my lone weapon, my knife, in case she decides to attack me without warning. Somehow, I can't see that happening, although that may just be because I wouldn't do that. I wander, moving reluctantly towards the center in case they decide to further tighten the noose.

There she is! Sitting on a large, flat rock, Delany watches the far sandstorm. I notice that she too clutches a short knife. It's covered with dried blood- Flavia's. I could just walk up behind her and stab her. I could go home in a few seconds if I want to. But I know I can't. I can't kill in cold blood; I'm shaken up pretty badly just watching someone else die. I'm still shivering from Luis's demise. Flavia died in front of me as well. And I freaked out when Camilla attacked Chandler and me in the hospital. So how am I going to win against a girl still fresh from her kill? I'll just have to muster the strength when I get up there to her.

Creeping up behind, I grasp my knife so tightly that my knuckles turn white. Delany hasn't noticed me. Can I really do this? Can I really kill someone in cold blood? I'm just a few feet away from her now. I force myself to raise the knife above my head, preparing to strike the final blow. I have to do this. For Chandler. Bay. I take one tiny step closer.

"Could you really do it, Newt?" Delany asks sharply. The next thing I know, I'm sprawled out on the ground with Delany pinning my arms out to the sides. My knife skitters across the sand and Delany lays her weapon on my neck. "Could you really bring yourself to take my life?" The willpower drains out of me, but I try to act strong. I don't want my friends to remember me as a coward in my last moments. "And, oh, by the way- you really need to work on stealth. I heard that sand shifting when you were yards away."

"I could kill you, Delany." Unfortunately, my voice squeaks and I gulp. Also unfortunately, her blade is so close to my neck that whenever I move, I can feel a small cut open up in my flesh. She smiles grimly.

"No, you can't. And neither could I." She removes her blade and lets me up, sitting back on her heels and biting her lip. I scoot backwards, rubbing my neck to try and soothe the thin cuts that have been made.

"You could have gone home if you have just pushed a little harder with that knife," I say, still rubbing my neck, "It would have only taken a tiny bit more force." If that was my only near-death experience for the day, I would be overjoyed. But that would never be the case.

"And that tiny bit was the force I couldn't give," she snaps. I shut up before she decides that she could, in fact, have slit my throat. "Sorry… I'm just afraid. I killed a girl, Newt! I actually killed her!" Delany's voice gets all shaky and I start to worry that I may have to suddenly be a source of comfort and helpfulness to her. I can't be a counselor, especially not for a girl. Too many unstable variables.

"Um… I'm sorry." It feels like my mouth is filled with cotton; the fact that I'm basically speechless makes the whole situation worse.

DISTRICT FIVE FEMALE: DELANY LAVIS

He just doesn't understand. I went out and stabbed Flavia without a second thought. I ended her life. Even if she was a terrible person it was a horrible thing to do- for both of us. I can never forget the feeling of a knife sliding into flesh, the way her body sagged forward and crumpled.

Newt takes a step back from me and retrieves his knife from the sand. "Go ahead, Newt. Go ahead and kill me. Can you? Can you kill me?" I egg him on, but the District Three boy stands there, unfazed.

"I think the question is, do I want to end up like you? Do I want to die guilty? Or do I want to die like this- afraid and still with clean hands?" he glances down at his ironically grimy hands. "What can I do to stop myself ending up like you?

"You could go and throw yourself into the sandstorm," I suggest, folding my arms across my chest, "It would be easier for me, because I don't want to have to kill you myself.

"I could wait for you to kill yourself," he says coldly- this is not something I ever would have expected from twitchy, nerdy Newt Hillen, "You're becoming more and more unstable and the guilt is evident in your actions. You might just commit suicide." I seethe at the idea. I'm not that unstable. I want to see my family and friends again. I don't even consider the idea that I could be the orchestrator of my own demise.

"Why would I kill myself when the easier option would be to kill… you?" I sneer at him and pick up my knife. "I don't like killing, but maybe I convince myself that it was all a dream. Maybe I can shove you into the sandstorm. I could do it, you know. I've killed already. The first kill must be the worst. Now I'm prepared, right?" Newt inhales sharply as I lunge for him, but he sidesteps and I miss.

"Delany, what are you doing?" What am I doing?

"I'm going home," I answer bluntly. I must kill him. I have to be more than who I am and do this final deed.

He readies his knife as I walk towards him. If charging isn't going to work, I'll just walk up. It's not like he can run and hide. I hold out my short blade and jab at him, but he parries- sloppily, but still successfully. Newt looks surprised, like he wasn't expecting it to work. If he's not sure of himself, then I will use that to my advantage. He's expecting a different tactic, but I use the same stroke. He moves just a bit slower and my blade hits his fingers. Two of them, shorn from his hand, drop to the sand. He gapes at his bloody hand and then doubles over his injured hand in pain.

It's my turn to take advantage. I bowl him over and wrench the knife out of his hand. Putting all my weight on his chest, I flatten him on the sand. I bring my dagger down on his face, but he's still got enough wits about him to bring up his arms against my wrists, stopping the blow. I know I'm still strong enough. I use both hands to push on the knife handle. Newt clenches his jaw and prepares himself for death.

I'm forcing the blade down towards his face when he exclaims, "Delany! Stop! What would Bay think?" I freeze for just one second, and Newt uses that to his advantage. His hand flashes down and he punches me in my bad leg. It cracks and I yelp. He's put the bone back out of place. While I'm adjusting to the new pain, he tosses me away from him and I legitimately fly through the air for a few seconds. Fear makes that kid much more powerful.

I land on something sharp and it elicits an involuntary groan from me. I shake my head to clear away the pain and stand up again. Newt tilts his head to the side and his mouth falls open a little bit. I follow his eyes and look to my torso. My knife is driven up to its hilt in my gut.

That's when the pain hits. The first throb is dull but painful, located just where the knife is stuck. The wound isn't so bad, I think, maybe I can still fight and win. I can go home to Jesy and Beth and Harry, and my sisters and mom and dad. I need my knife, though. I reach down and pull it out quickly. The blood gushes. A point of agony starts at the wound and then the hurt comes in waves all over my body, racking me with pain. I collapse, but instead of hitting the sand Newt catches me and lays me down gently.

"Delany," he says sharply, "Delany, stay with me. Delany. Can you hear me? Stay with me, Five, I've got you. I've got you, you're fine. Stay here. Listen to me, you're going to be all right. Ignore the pain, don't give up. Fight it. Stay with me. Delany. Don't die. Delany!" I force my eyes open and press my hand over the deep wound.

"Newt… it's so much easier," I gasp out, still shaking with agony.

"Delany…" he says warningly.

"Don't bother," I say. The place behind my eyes is white now, and the whole world is fading. The pain starts to ebb. I exhale and smile as I close my eyes.

Leighann is there, beckoning. "Sister!" she cries, "Sister, I've been waiting for you!"

"Leighann? What are you doing here?" I mumble.

"It's time to go, Delany."

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**This was the most difficult thing I have ever written. Not in terms of writing style or plotline, but the choices I had to make. It was heartbreaking. I bawled all day today. To those who won't like the outcome: I'm sorry. But it worked and in the end it was what I decided. Please, even if your favorite didn't win, stick around to see the completion of this story.**

**I will be going back to the families and friends of the dead tributes in a later chapter.**

**O****BITUARY QUOTES**

**Delany Lavis: "Do not underestimate the determination of a quiet man." -Iain Duncan Smith**

**Luis Thomsen: "You can only come to the morning through the shadows." -J.R.R. Tolkien; "Severe truth is expressed with some bitterness." -Henry David Thoreau**

**Tell me what you thought! :)**


	33. Last Man Standing

**From now on... it's all Newt. This chapter was a little while in coming; I apologize.**

**And happier news: I'm involved in 'Hunters & The Hunted: The 10th Hunger Games (24 Author Collaboration)' run by Acereader55, ShadowPandaX7, and The Purple Rose of Desire! It's under the account name '24 for 24', or at least will be when we start publishing reapings on Nov. 6. My tribute is Jayre Lash, District Nine male.**

**R&R, my vultures! :)**

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Delany smiles faintly and releases her last breath, her body suddenly going limp in my arms. As the cannon booms, I bow my head and bite my lip, trying to hide my tears from the cameras that are undoubtedly nearby. This was me. I killed her. I killed Delany Lavis, and, even worse, I used Bay to do so. I'm a monster. I don't deserve to be alive.

Moving her body onto the sand, I close her eyes and lay one of her hands over the knife wound in her stomach. I've heard about dead people looking like they're asleep, but it's not true. Delany's still new to death, but she doesn't look alive at all. She looks like a doll, a shell of who she used to be. She's empty.

That leaves me alone in the arena. I force myself to look up and face the world as an announcer's voice rings in my ears. "Ladies and gentlemen, the victor of the Seventeenth Annual Hunger Games- Newton Hillen of District Three!" My fate has been sealed. Two hovercrafts hum in the sky, one of which lifts up Delany's corpse in a metal claw and the other sends down a ladder for me. I shakily grasp the bottom rungs and immediately I'm frozen in some sort of holding beam. How does that work? It's fantastic. Maybe I can get someone to tell me later. Then I remember Delany and I'm ashamed that I stopped thinking of her so quickly.

In the hovercraft, I don't even bother to ask how it works. My tongue is dry and the Capitol doctors and physicians don't seem very interested in talking to me anyway. They give me some cold water and take some measurements as the hovercraft's windows black out and we begin to move.

"He's in shock," one of them says. I am? Now that I think about it… I crumple and someone's clipboard goes flying as they run to catch me.

"Get him into the medic station," another one barks. I'm carried to a white room and laid down on a metal table. I can see the dirty survival suit and the dried blood that still stains it, but I don't register the fact that I'm wearing the arena costume. It's all someone else. Newt Hillen isn't there. Then one of the doctors pulls a white blanket over me and hides the blood from view.

"Hook him up to one of the IV's, quick." I barely feel the needle in my wrist, just the gentle nothingness of sleep descending upon me. It's not filled with dreams of Bay and Chandler and Delany, as I thought it would be. It's probably the last dreamless sleep I'll ever have.

I awake to find myself in a larger, probably-not-airborne hospital room. For a second I think I'm still in the arena, but the window isn't barred and the layout is different. I heave a sigh of relief, but then it all comes flooding back, renewing my guilt.

Twenty four went in, and true to form, one came out. None of us deserved to die (although Flavia might have been a special case), but I was the one who pulled through. I, Newt Hillen, survived the Hunger Games over people like Athena Monroe, Alec Ryans, and Luis Thomsen- and for once I cannot offer an answer as to why or how. My brain cannot comprehend the logic behind this. That must be it- there is no logic. That's how dumb the Games are.

I examine my hands- they're clean now, although I could swear that they still feel bloodstained. The arena outfit has been removed and replaced with a flimsy hospital gown. They're repairing me to Capitol standards, making me fit for presentation. I think it would be a better message to everyone if they first showed me to everyone as I was when I came from the arena, but the Capitol, of course, is so shallow that they value my outward appearance over a more powerful image.

Hooked up to at least ten machines, I can't go anywhere, but at least I'm awake. I'm hungry; I can feel that now, so it's been a while since I was removed from the arena. Delany's probably back in District Five. I don't want to think about that, so I close my eyes and go back to sleep. This time, the faces appear in my dreams. Delany, Bay, Chandler, Luis, and Flavia. The people who I saw die or who were my allies.

Once more I awake, but now I want to stay conscious. Those dreams- I have to have them every night? All the stories from other victors say I will. I don't ever want to fall asleep ever again. Luckily, I have visitors, so I have an excuse to do something.

"Good to see you alive, Newt," my mentor says dryly. Alume Tshi, victor of the second Games, is not one for emotion, so I force a smile at what must be the most feeling I'll ever hear from her. The District Three escort, Talinda, is the exact opposite. She frets over me like I'm something to be displayed and dumps a bowl of broth down my throat. She means well, but I almost choke on the scalding soup.

"How long has it been?"

"A couple days," Alume says shortly, "The recap of the Games is tonight, so we've got to get you out of this hospital room. I'm sure you've had enough of hospitals." I nod vigorously, but that makes me dizzy and I lay back into the squishy pillows. "They've pumped you full of drugs, so you should be strong enough to walk. Wobbly, perhaps, but you'll manage." Talinda in her effort to be helpful basically pushes me off the bed, but it works. I stand shakily and survey the room.

"I guess the prep team will want to see me." Alume nods. "Which way? You must have been getting ready to wake me up for preparation if you were waiting for me to wake up."

"Your prep team is waiting right down this hallway, dearie," Talinda says, nudging me down a stark corridor to one of the prep rooms. Sure enough, the bright colors and odd accents of my prep team overwhelm me as soon as I step through the door.

They wring my hands, yammering on about how they're so fortunate to have worked with a victor and how they all want promotions. I grit my teeth and close my eyes as they go to work, slapping makeup on my face- still weird- and slathering me with creams and products that do who knows what. I don't want this. I don't want any of it. How is it an honor to be a victor? It's miserable. I don't know how the others can put up with the Capitol and the guilt and mentoring.

Oh my goodness. For the years to come I will be the one trying to bring back the District Three tributes alive. And every year, at least one of them will die. Their deaths will rest on my shoulders just as heavily as Delany's death does.

The prep team lets me up and then they exit, leaving me to wait for my stylist. I feel like I've been made into a different person- not Newt Hillen, but a boy that the Capitol wants to have for a victor. They don't want me to be awkward and nerdy like I am; they want me to be strong, handsome, and intelligent. That sounds more like Luis Thomsen than me. I sigh and await the stylist.

The door bursts open in a whirl of shimmering skirts and fluorescent makeup. She's here. Tarquinia Bellorum, the insane clothing genius. She's always going on about some made-up place or person, but she's a whiz with fabrics. Even I can see that. She just sees patterns in the cloth, like I might see in numbers. And while her creations may not be the most comfortable to wear, they're interesting and complex.

Look at me, going on about clothes. I'm turning into one of them already.

Tarquinia examines the muck that the prep team has smeared on my face and nods. "You're set, Newt." She hands me my newest costume. It's a dark silver suit- simple at first until the light hits it, and then I can see little machinery designs all across the suit. I slip into the outfit and gaze sadly into the mirror. This is the life of a victor- a guinea pig for the Capitol and a slave to its every whim. I'll forever be dressed up and put on display, even if the only thing I want to do is hide. I slump in the suit and fiddle with the lime-green tie Tarquinia almost chokes me with. I have to go out there and relive the Games tonight.

Tarquinia leads me to a sawdusty room underneath the stage where the recaps will be shown. Alume, Talinda, and the prep team already wait there and with the exception of Alume they get very excited when I enter the small space. Above I can hear Octavius Cairns' booming voice introduce some of the important figures who already have taken their places onstage. President Riker and Head Gamemaker Thames are up there waiting for me to appear.

The prep team appears first, followed by Tarquinia. Both receive moderate cheers from the crowd. Talinda, ascending after them, gets a louder reception, and Alume's welcome is positively deafening.

Suddenly I'm going up to see the world for the first time as a victor. I'm not sure if I'll like it very much. I squeeze my eyes shut and hope for the best, but as the bright lights of camera flashes begin to pop, I open my eyes. The huge stadium is filled to capacity with people, all screaming in joy as I come into view. It terrifies me more than Flavia. Octavius strides over to me and shakes my hand, introducing me once again as "Newton Hillen, new victor of the Games!" He makes a few jokes about not bothering to interview me until the official interview tomorrow night, all of which are pretty bad jokes. And that's coming from a nerd. I'm led to an ornate chair and I sit down uncomfortably. All these people think I'm cool because I'm a murderer and because I'm the last of twenty-four kids to die. Wonderful.

Luckily their chants and cheers stop when the stadium lights dim and the giant screen flickers to life. The Capitol anthem blasts and then we begin. The reapings are shown, little clips from some of the bigger names and mine in full. Flavia lifts her bloody hand in the air, Lucia Greene volunteers, Laken turns into Merry, and Skyford Al'Rand accidentally volunteers. I'm there, doing my homework, and then proclaiming that the Games ruined my day. I sound so immature.

The chariots basically show one picture from each district and then highlight District Seven in their nymph outfits. The Careers get more screen time here as well. The scores are flashed, including my middling number and the high scores. I'm starting to get angry now, because they seem to be skipping over people like Delany, Chandler, and Bay, who were just as impressive in their own right. The interviews are a little better. Everyone has a line of their interview shown, and Delany and I are played in full.

The soundtrack switches to something foreboding and chilling, and I can't look away before they show my district partner's death from the bloodbath. Tyman Gruiter. That's who killed Neon. My heart blazes with hatred. He dies, too, just after he kills Neon, at the hands of Adrian Rain. Good. Sara Ross shoots Lucia through the eye, and in the background I see Chandler with his stolen pack, gaping in horror as his district partner also dies. Flavia kills off Ruby Elis and Karlie Mills, and Camilla gets Skyford. They show some people getting hurt and some people running away and Alec snapping Rowne Mercer's neck, and then the announcer's pre-recorded voiceover plays while they show the whole thing again in slow motion. Hooray, new material for my nightmares. Not to mention the fact that Laken had apparently gone into Merry mode for the day.

On the second day, Luis kills Adrian and Athena cuts up Laken's neck. I wince as the Career girl slices at the girl from Seven's neck. She survived with that for a week? And she couldn't even talk? I try not to think about it as I watch the pair from Nine-including Alec, weakened by alcohol withdrawal- barely miss detection by the Careers. Chandler and I missed most of the tension. We were good hiders.

Actually, we had a close call that day as well. I'm torn between grinning and bawling as my ally and I appear on the screen, still healthy-looking and very much alive. The camera flashes to the other side of the door, revealing that the Careers almost found us. If they had turned the doorknob, I wouldn't be here right now. Fortune is fickle.

Equally bad as seeing Chandler alive is watching Bay and Delany become friends. The younger girl helps Delany wrap up her leg and even gives her some of her supplies. They talk about Karlie and Skyford, Bay's first set of allies, and then decide to stay together. Heartbroken, I blink back tears.

Day three. Octavian from Five tries to kill Luis, Sara, and Laken, but his plan backfires when poison seeps from the air conditioner and almost suffocates them all. Luis runs back into the gas to rescue Octavian, but it's too late. The boy is too weak to combat the poison in his lungs. Laken leaves Sara and Luis then.

None of them deserved to die. By my own survival I killed all twenty-three of them. Every death onscreen was my fault. They shouldn't be dead.

Cenia Trallon falls prey to some weird worm mutts that torture her by burrowing to her vital organs. I cover my hands with my eyes and hunch forward in my seat. I can't stand this. I can't watch two more hours of this. I'm overwhelmed by my feelings- more emotion pours through my veins than I ever felt in the arena. It's like I'm emerging into a terrible reality. I killed. I survived. I'm nothing more than an animal.

Day four. The day Chandler defeated Camilla, we found the bomb, and Bay found us. It's the quietest day in the arena, and the Careers seem positively cheery. They've agreed amongst themselves to not kill who they found (except Flavia, who didn't know a thing). Delany makes a stand against them, though, and Chandler and I are vicious by comparison, attacking Camilla as soon as we catch sight of her and forcing Bay to stay with us after she found out about the impending explosion. The closest thing I had to friends in the arena, and both of them are dead. By now, they'll have been bled dry, cleaned up, and shipped home in coffins.

I squeeze my eyes shut through days Five and Six, where most of the footage is of us cutting away at the window and of the Careers. Blue Anston dies horrifically and his screams send shivers up my back. Sara Ross is tortured as well, by a mutt in the basement of the hospital. Luis is there as she dies, pleading with her to stay. The boy I watched get torn to pieces by hyenas had a soft side after all.

The feast and the explosion. I open my eyes reluctantly for this, because I know that cameras will be on me, recording my reaction to this part of the Games. I get déjà vu as Chandler and I exit the hospital and Bay chooses to remain. Gnawing on my fingernails as Bay descends the stairs, I watch the feast unfold. It looks spectacular, a huge feast with parcels for each remaining tribute. The tributes step from the shadows, ready to charge, but Bay leaps up onto the table. I can't help but smile through the tears that are beginning to run down my cheeks. She tries her best to stop the fighting, but in the end only Delany runs after her towards the stairs. The rest clash in battle, and the first one I see fall is Alec. Then… Athena? Really? It was Flavia, after all. The backstabber.

People begin to run, but Gray seems to have lost his wits and he ends up dueling and killing Alex, his friend. The feast ran red with the stains of betrayal.

The broken window is swarmed, and only Bay and Camilla are still at the hospital when the rumbling starts. Camilla falls, breaking her neck, and Bay- kind, happy Bay who spent the last few days of her life making life awkward for Chandler and me- is blown to bits. I have to stuff my fist in my mouth to keep from breaking down entirely. I have to be strong now. I need to be strong.

Laken was close to the building, close enough to be thrown backwards into a rock spire with the force of the explosion, and she collapses from the head wound she receives. Oh no. It's coming.

I can't tear my eyes from the screen as an image of Chandler and me flashes onscreen. He's wearing the survival suit, but as I watch we trade off. We seem calmer than I remember feeling, and then I see myself look around, bewildered. The shifting sands.

The same fear that overtook me then erupts in the pit of my stomach now. Chandler disappears as the sand explodes around the dragon. The other Newt stands shell-shocked for a moment and then dashes behind a spire. The dragon scans the terrain with its golden eye and then returns to its sandy domain, blatantly leaving me alive.

Top five. Time elapses to the next morning, focusing on Luis, who's working on staying cool. He's got a survival suit and he skitters from shade to shade. Then, suddenly, he stumbles across Gray. The boy from Two has the same guilt that I do and he begs Luis to finish him off. Luis does. Top four. Flavia races across the arena to the place where her district partner died. She starts tracking the other boy, bent on death and bloodshed. She acts almost rabid.

The footage doesn't show Delany and me, hiding just over the crest of the sand dune. It focuses on the skirmish between the two most powerful tributes left. Flavia's going to strike the death blow when she falls. Delany stands behind her with a bloodied knife. Three.

It cuts out the part where Delany bandages Luis's wounds, and where I follow her and question her morals. Right. They're still afraid of rebels who would band together over the small act of kindness. It skips straight to Delany in the sandstorm, when she wakes up and starts to run. I recognize the flat rock where she sits down and prepares her weapon. Then it follows me, watching me run across the sand pell-mell to finally dig myself a little grave. But it's Luis who they focus on last as he charges away from the whirling storm, being captured by mutts at the last second.

They have film from inside the storm, and Luis tries to curl himself into a tiny ball as the mutts tear at him. The canines' teeth work better than any human defense mechanism and soon his blood runs freely. A mangy mutt bites at his throat and then it's all over.

Me and Delany. I can't watch. I can't. I bite my tongue so hard it starts to bleed; even with my eyes closed and ears plugged I still feel like I'm reliving the battle. My throat aches where her knife pressed into it, my heart pounds like it did when I tossed her away from me, and my stomach drops the same way it did when she pulled the knife from her own gut. Through my defenses I can hear my own cries for Delany's life; my own mourning is clear in my head. I'm a beast. A murderous monster unfit of the title 'human'. How can the Capitol look upon these Games as entertainment? The final fanfare plays and I manage to compose myself just as the lights come back on.

"Join us tomorrow night for the victor's interview, folks!" Octavius Cairns signs off and then I'm surrounded by Capitol people, desperate for a good look at me and maybe even an autograph. Alume pushes them all away and leads me off the stage.

"Doing all right, Newt?" she asks.

"No," I reply miserably.

"That's to be expected," is her brisk explanation, "but try to get as much sleep as possible. It helps if you can't think about it."

* * *

THE NEXT NIGHT: AT THE INTERVIEW ROOM

I straighten the silver bowtie and step onstage with my knees trembling. My chair is simple compared to last night's ornate seat, but it's still cushioned with the most expensive of fabrics and painted gaudily. At least the audience is nonexistent- the only way to see this interview will be on television.

"Newt Hillen, everyone!" Octavius holds his arms out to me, welcoming and introducing and I nod weakly at the cameras. Still shaking, I make it to my seat and sit down warily. I don't trust people, not after what I've been through. And these are the people that put me through it.

"So, Newt, welcome back! How are you adjusting to civilization?"

"Not particularly well. I mean, after the death of allies and killing and seeing others die… it's hard sitting here and not wanting to run away."

"And where would you run to, Newt?"

"I dunno. Home, maybe, if I could bear it. Maybe I'd just go back to the arena and wait to die." Octavius looks a little uncomfortable, but he adjusts his already-forced smile and changes the subject.

"You were quite an unexpected victor, weren't you, Newt?"

"Yeah, I suppose I was."

"Did you expect to win?"

"No." It's the complete truth. I was one of the weakest tributes in the competition, and the Games are as much about strength as it is about intelligence. "I was lucky, that's all."

"Not just that, you were smart!" I see where Octavius is going with this before he continues. "You found out about the bomb. Will you tell us about that?"

"Um, well, it was a shock. We weren't expecting anything like that. And we never would have found out about it if Camilla hadn't almost killed us. The shock was sort of a good surprise, though. It gave us a chance to even the odds- we still were in danger, but we had a way out."

"You keep saying 'we', Newt. Are you referring to the alliance between Chandler Mathews and yourself?"

"Yeah." I don't want to talk about this.

"You must have become friends."

"Sure. Yeah, we were friends."

"And he died, correct?"

"Well, I'm the one sitting here. What do you think?" Octavius laughs and I shrink back into my chair. It wasn't meant to be funny.

"Tell us about your alliance." The man leans forward like a predator about to pounce. If I squint his smile looks like the bared fangs of some evil beast.

"Well, it was me and Chandler. We were both smart, both outcasts. We met in training and decided to stick together, but we weren't sure how long it would last. In the arena, we had nothing to do but talk to each other, so we did. I guess somewhere in there I realized that we could never actually kill each other, so it would have to be at the hands of another tribute. Then Bay came- which I admit was awkward, but she was nice to both of us. If she hadn't gone back to warn the others, we would have been the last three. But she was noble and went to save lives. She deserved to live more than me, and if you knew her you'd say the same.

"Chandler and I just kept going. She'd broken the alliance, even if we wouldn't attack her later on. Then the Capitol-" I can't say 'picked favorites', that would get me executed for treason or something, "- sent the survival suit thing and we knew that whoever was wearing it would… get heat stroke or something." It's a lame excuse, but as long as it keeps our true motives hidden it'll work. "So we traded off, and the dragon came when I was wearing it. So Chandler-" I abruptly lose the ability to speak.

"Chandler was eliminated from the competition," Octavius finished smoothly. I nod quickly, trying to blink back stinging tears. "Here in the Capitol, citizens often develop names for their favorite alliances. They called your group Newtler, even when Bay was present." I smile a little bit. "We know how the alliance formed and what you boys did, but what are your feelings about the boy himself?"

Well, that's awkward. I'm not… interested in Chandler or anything. And I never was.

"Well…um…um… he was a good guy. Logical and practical and still courageous enough to take risks. He was a good person. He saw things that no thirteen-year-old should have to witness and still stuck it out until the arena caught up to him." Octavius seems satisfied, or at least mollified enough to change the subject.

"That's nice. But let's talk about you, Newt."

"What about me?"

"Well, your family and home and what you think it'll be like returning to your district, for instance."

"My family- it's me, my parents, and my big sister Jaz. She'll be so happy when I get back. She thought she had never really had the chance to be a good older sibling so this is her chance. My parents are great too. I love them and I hope the house in the Victor's Village will be a good enough gift for all they've done for me. I mean, coming home is just the beginning. I have to resettle. It's not like everything will go back to the way it used to be. I'm traumatized, even if I don't look it now."

"Well, maybe you'll find someone who can help you. Didn't you mention a girl, once?"

"I have friends, you know. Laya likes me… a lot… if that's what you mean. And Adonia and Danny are great people as well." Octavius pounds me on the back as he laughs, which sends me into a coughing fit. "What?" I'm bewildered.

"It looks like he's taken, if any of you ladies out there are wondering!" The heat races up my neck and across my cheeks and ears. I'm sure I'm bright red. "Just a few more questions, Newt."

"All right." It's not like I could get away if I wanted to.

"As a victor, what will your 'talent' be? And do you have anything to say to the kids who could go into the arena next year?"

"I'll answer the last one first. Guys… I hope with all my heart that you will never sit where I sit today. It's torture. You never want to meet me, either as a mentor or a fellow victor. It will be terrible for you. The Games rip your very soul apart. It's the worst experience in the world. Friends die, your conscience is stained forever, and the nightmares plague you every night. I hope that you will never be chosen for the Games."

Octavius is totally stunned. He gapes at me for a moment, but I barge on, answering the final question. "I don't know what my stupid talent will be yet. Maybe I'll start a therapy for trauma victims. Maybe I'll write books. Maybe I'll invent things like I always have. I just don't know."

"All right, everyone, this is Octavius Cairns, right from the Capitol with our newest victor, District Three's Newt Hillen!" The Capitol man has recovered enough to speak, "This interview is over, folks, but we'll be back faster than you can imagine for the Victory Tour and then the Eighteenth Games! Goodbye, Panem!"

At last the cameras click off, leaving me alone in the interview room. I can't do anything but cry.

* * *

**Yeah, it's a little choppy at the start. I wanted to get him to his Capitol events faster. :/**

**Please let me know in your reviews what you think should take place in the next chapter. I have ideas but I want to be able to take suggestions into account. :)**

**And, like always, tell me what you thought!**


	34. Remember Them Forever

**I decided to use this chapter as a memorial. For some tributes, I felt the need to write full scenes in memoriam, but everyone is remembered. Some are short, true, but I think this chapter would be extremely tedious and not as powerful if I expanded on every dead tribute's piece. Thanks for understanding, and R&R!**

* * *

DISTRICT TWELVE: GRACE ROSS

"Mom, please. Mom, you need to eat," I beg as my mother sits, unresponsive. She's gotten progressively worse over the past three days, starting when Sara died. I've gotten more and more stressed as she cares less and less about continuing to live. I mean, Sara was basically what she had to live for. I keep to myself most of the time and I try to stay independent. I never thought trying to not be a burden could backfire, but now it's like my mom doesn't even notice me. She sits in her chair, starting at pictures of Dad and Sara.

I can't remember Dad. He died when I was two and when Mom was pregnant with my little sister. How hard must it be to have lost two of the people closest to you instead of just one? Pretty bad if it's turned Mom into a shell of herself.

Suddenly a knock comes at the door. If it's more sympathizers or Capitol news teams looking for a sob story, I'll punch them out. No- even better. I grab a stick on my way to answer the door.

It's someone much less irritating. I've never met the two women standing at my door, but I've seen them on my television screen. They're the mother and friend of Luis Thomsen, Sara's district partner. The two teens were allies in the Games and Luis tried to save Sara. I invite them inside.

"What's the occasion?" I spit out bitterly. They're in no way required to come and visit. If it's a pity visit, they're three days late.

"In the arena… Luis… he's dead. We just found out." I bow my head as the older woman speaks. Twelve, once again, has lost the chance to bring a young person home. Luis has died- we will find out tonight in what manner.

"I'm sorry." I really had no idea. I feel terrible.

"Where's Sara's mom? I know you're her sister, but…" Luis's mother trails off.

"She's in the other room. If you can get her to talk to you, you'll be a genius." The woman nods and follows my directions. The girl stays by me. "Who are you? I recognize you, but I don't know your name. You actually remind me of Sara, in appearance."

"I'm Iona Prescott, Luis's friend. You're Grace, right?"

"Yeah, that's me. You're the one Luis was telling Sara about right before she died?" Iona bites her lip and nods quickly. I wrap her in a rare hug and try to hold back my tears. Before long it's impossible and this gush of emotions pours out from the deepest parts of me. Iona, too, shakes with sobs as we wordlessly mourn our lost loved ones.

Luis was right. There's something about Iona besides her appearance that reminds me of Sara. The fire in her eyes, maybe. Or the fear on her face. Maybe it's just a Twelve thing, where we're ready for disaster because there's a new catastrophe every day. But I feel like Iona could be my sister. Luis had it right. And it hurts, because neither of them is coming home and Iona could never really replace Sara.

When we final disengage from the sorrowful embrace, I look towards the other room. My mom and Luis's mother sit, clutching each other's hand, the gesture of a grieving parent.

DISTRICT FIVE: HARRY (DELANY'S FRIEND)

The coffin is a simple pine box, made especially for the girl that lies inside it. It fits her. She was never one to stand out; she would have approved of this simple affair. What am I saying? Death is something Delany absolutely never encouraged. And yet she took a life before she lost hers. I can't even imagine… my next door neighbor had to murder a girl and then she too died by another teen's hand. That boy didn't die though, and he's stuck with the memory of killing my friend.

Jesy sobs beside me and I put an arm around her. Beth refuses to show emotion, but she was unable to disguise the red patches around her eyes where she cried earlier. We went to pick her up for the funeral and she was still weeping then.

Delany's been cleaned up and- I can barely bear to think about it- prepared for burial. She looks like she did on the day of the reaping a month ago; clean and healthy and almost alive. She's wearing a simple outfit: a light green dress that would have matched her eyes if she could open them. They've probably put a ton of makeup on her body to make her appear so calm in death, but we aren't fooled.

The victor, Newt, sent her token back. Her mom hung up the slim metal bracelet in their house and we've started a little tradition of rubbing the thin circle every time we leave the house. It's a way to keep her memory alive.

Barley and Lydia clutch Jesy's hands and watch solemnly as the lid of the casket is carefully lowered. The pallbearers pound nails into the edges, sealing my friend up forever. It's time. Delany's parents follow the coffin and Beth, Jesy, Delany's sisters and I fall in behind them. There will be no pain or suffering for Delany, I reassure myself.

"Harry," Beth whispers, "Do you think we'll ever be the same without her?"

I shake my head. "Of course not. We'll have to become even closer because of her loss." Beth nods almost imperceptibly and returns her focus to the procession. The overcast sky is so appropriate for today. The drizzling mist has made the graveyard ground slightly soggy, but I don't care. Delany's burial is all that matters right now. The pallbearers adjust their grip on the coffin and begin to lower it into the ground. The mayor passes around white roses for us and one by one, we file past the new grave and let our flowers fall onto the wooden surface within. Delany's father, who is holding back tears, is handed a shovel. The 'honor' of laying the first scoop of soil above his daughter's body. With his hands trembling, he dips the shovel into the moist dirt and lets the earth fall onto the casket. The sorrow in the air becomes almost tangible. We all have to take a turn, and I don't know how I can. Delany's mom and sisters force themselves through the task, and then it comes to me. I grip the wooden handle and plunge it into the soil. I look at the brown earth and then at the half- covered coffin. I simply cannot do this.

Instead I turn to the Peacekeeper overseeing the process and I toss the shovelful of dirt in his face and run away from it all. I need to be alone.

DISTRICT SIX: FRIEDRICH (CHANDLER'S FRIEND)

Not even a body. They sent my friend into the Games and we never even got a body. He was eaten. By that thing. That bloody thing that burst out of the sand and ate my friend. At the burial service Chandler's family and, well, me, stood off to side awkwardly while that girl Lucia had a nice proper burial in the cemetery.

And here I stand, still with Chandler's family, as the boy who outlasted my friend stands onstage and stutters. He's what, fifteen? Sixteen, now? And they bring him around to make us relive the torture. Otherwise known as the Victory Tour.

I sulk as the Newt boy talks, reminding us all of Chandler's time in the arena. He gives a brief mention to Lucia but I'm pretty sure no one cares. She was a crazy bloodbath; Chandler made it to the top seven. I glower as Newt talks about how smart and loyal my friend was. I know all these things; apparently Newt has decided that we need to feel the pain of them all over again. I wish I could just shut him out. They don't know how guilty I feel. That morning of the reaping could have been my last chance to mess around with my friend and I chose to spend it with Electra instead. I'm a jerk.

"Thank you, District Six, for my friend Chandler," Newt finishes and we applaud halfheartedly. There will be a small reception for the victor in the Justice Building now, and the families of the tributes are invited. I never received an invitation, but that won't stop me from going, now will it? I edge around the crowd and work my way to the back door of the huge marble building. It's unguarded- locked, but that's easy to fix- and soon I'm in the building. People chatter and swarm around me, mostly important people but I catch a few glimpses of Chandler's parents and sister.

I find Newt speaking with Chandler's little sister Michelle. He's tearing up a bit and my heart twists involuntarily. Michelle doesn't get what went down in the arena six months ago. She just knows her brother isn't around anymore, and I think she's starting to forget about him. She smiles at Newt and I'm guessing that he told her a funny little story about her late brother. I can't get to Newt right now; he's surrounded by camera crews and various Capitolites that would recognize me as an impostor.

Newt straightens and waves them off, making his way away from the reception. This is my chance. I weave through the crowd after him, finally catching up with the victor in a back hallway. He sighs and covers his face with his hands.

"Hey." He whirls around in a panic. "Get over it. At least you're alive." He has to be thinking about the arena, where anyone could sneak up on you and kill you mercilessly.

"Yeah, but the twenty-three of them who died die again every night in my dreams!" he snaps back. I hold up my hands in mock surrender. "Who are you anyway?"

"Chandler's friend."

"Friedrich, right?" I nod. "Chandler told me about you." That makes me smile. "Are you doing all right?"

"Aside from seeing my best friend for a decade die on national television, pretty well. And I'm talking to his ally, who was there when he died. And that guy survived when my friend didn't. I'd say I'm just peachy."

Newt flushes a dark red. "I-I-I'm sorry. I really didn't know. I mean, I-I-I only knew him for a few weeks."

"I know. Just make sure you never forget him, all right?"

"I don't think that's possible," Newt says ruefully. His eyes lose focus and he seems to retreat into himself, like he's practicing remembering. "He should be here right now instead of me. I'm a monster." I allow myself a small smile and decide that Newt isn't so bad after all.

DISTRICT TEN: MALE TRIBUTE OF THE 74th HUNGER GAMES

Letting my bad leg drag as I shuffle into the bathroom, I begin to cry. I can't manage to survive the Hunger Games. Not with this crippled leg, it'll be impossible! Nobody supports me except Grandpa, and he can't do anything for me. Not now. Our family's never been rich or special in any way. I'm the first who's ever been out of the district since before the Games were established.

The other tributes, they've got skills. They're smart or strong or charming. And if they're not that then they're pretty. I'm none of those. I'm average and I have this stupid twisted leg. It wasn't my fault that one of the cows misplaced a hoof when I was little. I was only watching them from the fence.

That's how special I am. I watched cows for fun and then the simple beasts crippled me.

I get up and lock the door before an Avox or one of the adults tries to come visit me. They'll be oozing sweetness, even the Avoxes, and I can't take that. It'll just make my inevitable death more ironic. I'll have all this false hope that one blade will dash into a million tiny pieces. Maybe I'll just step off the plate before anyone else can kill me.

I wouldn't be able. I'm too cowardly to take myself out of the competition. Sniffling and letting the tears roll down my cheeks, I sit on the edge of the sink in order to prevent a collapse. See, how could I survive the Hunger Games if I can't even stand and bawl at the same time? I'm pathetic. If only I could just die right now and get rid of the anxiety and scared anticipation.

Still, maybe there's some hope. Maybe someone will have pity on me and sponsor me: one of the ones who roots for the underdog. District Ten has had victors before.

I quash the little bloom of hope before it gets unrealistic. District Twelve will get all the underdog sponsors. The Capitol loves a good show and the two lovebirds- what were their names, Peter?- no, Peeta and Katniss. Ugh. Maybe, though, one of them will be kind enough to kill me quickly. Their hands would be gentler than the pack of trained tributes from One, Two, and Four.

I set my hand on the wall to help me get down from my perch safely, but instead of being helpful a wave of surprise overtakes me and I topple. My bad leg doesn't help me catch my balance at all and I end up on a heap on the floor. Slowly, I stand back up and run my hands over the wall again. Sure enough, there's something carved there, although it's faint from the layers of paint that have been set over it. It must be pretty old. I find a pen and use it to dig at the paint. Flakes of color drift from the wall, and I can begin to distinguish words. 'Blue' shows up first, directly below 'Cord'. Cord Blue? Maybe an Avox had some demented plan, however many years ago. I run my hands over the words again, and… wait… there are more letters. Cordo- Cordov- Cordova- Cordovan! Cordovan! What is that? A name, maybe? I keep working, finally stopping when I can't find more letters. 'Cordovan Anston' and 'Blue' stand out on the ruined paint.

Wait a second. Names. My uncle is named Blue, after a friend of Grandpa Benton and Grandma Kindra's. And that friend… died in the Games. Blue Anston and his brother Cordovan both died in the Games. I run my hands over their names. For them. They may not have survived, but maybe, just maybe, I have a chance.

* * *

Athena's mother founded the Athena Center for Teens in District One for the kids who were broken by the Games. Siblings and friends of dead tributes came to her for comfort.

The girl whose taunting drove Adrian to volunteer for the Games put flowers on his grave every Reaping Day until she died.

Flavia was buried next to her brother Fray.

Gray's friends Anna, Watcher, and Darla refused to volunteer.

Neon's funeral was the same day as Newt's homecoming. Instead of celebrating, the district went to her funeral. Newt included. He gave not a homecoming speech but a eulogy.

Camilla's parents were arrested for rioting when they found out that Camilla had died. They realized how wrong the Games were and vowed to try and keep kids safe from it.

The production of Romeo and Juliet in which Alex was Mercutio never opened. Instead, Bethany and Archie made a huge banner reading 'Brave Mercutio is Dead' which hung at their stage until the next Reaping. And they refused to take part in that play ever again.

Octavian's little brother Onyx volunteered for and won the Games six years later.

Lucia's mother sold all of her daughter's things and dedicated her life to helping children with mental disorders.

Laken's mother awoke from her coma to find Luna and Tennan standing by her bedside. After she recovered from the news of her daughter's death and learned to walk again, she divorced her husband and began a long healing process.

Rowne's friends planted a rowan tree at his house and carved his name into its trunk.

Karlie's older sister, who called Karlie's braids childish the day of the reaping, wore her hair in braids almost every day for the rest of her life.

Tyman's friends stopped wolf-whistling at girls.

Lolium was sought out by Avia Brooke and told that he was the only person both Alec and Cenia mentioned entirely fondly during the Capitol Week before the Games. He was given a job (thanks to some strings pulled by Avia) and he spent the rest of his life traveling as a messenger throughout Panem.

Clarisse, Ruby Elis's young friend, ran away from her rich parents and sought a home with Blue's parents. She was a close friend to Blue's sister Violet.

Bay's youngest sister Strawberry was in the town preparing for Bay's funeral when she saw something that upset her. Skyford's funeral had only one person attending- Tholian, his friend. Strawberry went and held the older boy's hand to try and comfort him.

* * *

**The next chapter will be Newt's epilogue (although not the last chapter) and author's thanks.**

**Tell me what you thought!**


	35. A Life Worth Living?

**Newt's Epilogue. One chapter remaining. R&R!**

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"So, Newt," the young Hunger Games announcer, Caesar Flickerman, begins, "we haven't seen you in a while. Welcome back!" The older man looks at him suspiciously.

"It has been a while, hasn't it?" he rasps, fiddling with a piece of wire as he speaks.

"Indeed, Mr. Hillen. In fact, it's been forty years since you won the Hunger Games!"

"Don't remind me." Flickerman laughs heartily, making Newt's words seem like a remark on aging instead of the Games' horrors. "Isn't it more customary to have fiftieth-anniversary interviews instead of fortieth? It's a slightly odd number. I mean, it's even, but you know what I mean." Even after forty years of publicity, Newt still manages to be awkward.

"Because this is a momentous moment!" the beaming Capitolite cheers.

"Really?" Newt's tone barely concealed his bitter sarcasm.

"You, Newt Hillen, have now brought two tributes home! Beetee won with his clever wire trap not ten years ago, and now Wiress has won the Games as well. As a mentor, how do you feel?"

"I saved two kids out of eighty. That's one-fortieth of my tributes. Seventy-eight have died. That's thirty-nine fortieths. I saved two-point-five percent of my kids. It may be better than most- I mean, look at District Twelve- but it's not at all relaxing. Seventy-eight kids died because I didn't do enough to save them."

Caesar is flustered for a moment, but recovers quickly. "Well, you could have only saved forty at most. So, that doubles your percentage, right? That's what, five percent of the kids? Look, that's not bad at all!" He offers a dazzling smile, but Newt shifts his pale green gaze to the ground.

"It's terrible."

"Well, if you don't want to talk about Beetee and little Wiress then we don't have to." Caesar puts a hand on Newt's shoulder, trying to comfort him, but the wiry man brushes him off.

"If my fellow victors aren't the topic of this interview, what will be? Weren't they the reason you dragged me here?"

"Not necessarily. Let's talk about you!" Newt's 'signature' red blush creeps across his face and ears.

"What... about… me?" he quavers, gulping.

"Your life, what you've been up to. We've heard snippets here and there- your victor talent, for instance, and your brief engagement to your old friend Adonia- but we want the full story from the nerd himself!" Newt flushes a little darker as he realizes the ulterior motive of the Capitol, but he doesn't refuse. A victim always knows his limits.

He takes a deep breath. "After I won the Games, I couldn't turn back to inventing because it reminded me too much of the life I couldn't have anymore. I still loved science and math, that didn't change, but it wasn't just fun anymore. It was painful. So I chose writing for my talent. Frankly, I wasn't very good, but it was worth it to learn something new. It took my mind off of the plaguing guilt. Laya, Danny, and Adonia helped me. They gave me ideas. They had changed too- they had seen what I went through and it had hurt them. Laya still liked me, and I decided I liked her that way as well. She was my first date. We were sixteen by then.

"Those Games were hard. My first year mentoring, you know? I…I'm not even going to speak about them. Two more kids to add to my list of the dead. Their parents blamed me, saying that I didn't do enough to save them.

"I thought that eventually it would get easier- the pain- but it just grew. With two more faces in my dreams, I was guiltier than ever. I knew I wasn't the only one- for instance Mags from District Four had the same problem. She was about my age, and she talked to me about it all the time.

"The next year, at the reapings, I was ready to commit suicide if it wasn't for my friends and family. They were always there for me. Jaz especially. It was like she had taken it upon herself to be the sister that she hadn't been before, and it probably saved my life.

"I almost did, you know, that night. Danny and Laya were reaped. I thought it was rig- wrong, at first, but there was nothing I could do about it. Danny was sixteen and Laya was seventeen. He made it to the top ten; she died in his arms. It was dehydration that took her out. She had told me that she didn't want another teenager to kill her because she knew that she would haunt them forever. Danny wanted to win. He killed two other tributes before a muttation got him. The worst part was being known as their mentor- the one who wasn't able to keep his best friends alive.

"I barely survived. Adonia and I were the only ones left of the group. She made it through her reapings and then we had to comfort each other. We thought we were in love, and we got engaged. It was big news, at the time. When we realized that we weren't truly in love, we were just grieving together, it was too late. The Cap- someone wanted us apart forever. One morning she was found dead in the street.

"Of course, I received proposals from Capitol girls. I was in my early twenties then- so young- and even if I wasn't handsome my status made me desirable. I turned to my writing more than ever and I never even responded to one of those proposals. If everyone I loved was going to die, the effort to even try again was too much. My family was quiet and obedient. They didn't do anything, say anything to make themselves targets. Mom and Dad died of old age just a few years ago. It's me and Jaz now.

"Well, Beetee is there, too, in the Victor's Village. Wiress will be there now, I guess, but I'm only used to Beetee. He's been mentoring now, but it's both of us. Alume left me to mentor alone, but I won't do the same to the boy. That's the way it's been now for almost ten years."

Caesar is shocked. He gapes for a moment or so before regaining his composure and speaking once again. "What a moving story! Thank you, Newt Hillen, and good luck with your further endeavors." Newt nods, waving goodbye at the cameras with his three-fingered hand.

Newt grew old alone, in the course of his mentorship bringing home one more tribute. He officially 'retired', leaving the job to Beetee, Wiress, and his other survivor Mica. He wrote children's books, using his friends and experiences as his inspiration. Of course the stories were 'modified' until they were child-appropriate, but Newt kept writing.

He was seventy-three at the Third Quarter Quell, and he could not help but weep when he saw his old friend Mags volunteering. He never joined the rebellion or the Capitol, but just continued to write. He wrote about everything then, although the stories would never be seen. Newt died of heart failure during the days of rebellion, and was found by a group of rebels who had come to see if he was going to help them. He was buried in a cemetery in Three; the people who buried him unknowingly laid him to rest just a few yards from Neon, Danny, and Laya. Jaz lived through the rebellion but died just a few years after Paylor was elected. She was eighty-one.

Newt never visited his arena, unlike so many other victors. He was too afraid.

He had no children. He refused to have affairs with Capitol citizens.

His last words were written. They read:

_Chandler._

_ Delany._

_ Laya. Danny. Adonia._

_ At last._

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**As I said earlier, there is one chapter left. One. **

**DA Member Hogwarts: You are amazing, my vulture. :) It's been wonderful. We've had some super weird conversations, but this whole time you've supported me. You're a wonderful (wonderfully MAD, I should say!) person. Newt won, and sometimes I wish I had killed him so that he wouldn't have had to live throught this epilogue. Thank you for your character.**

**District11-Olive and LexisZ-10: I killed your tributes in the bloodbath and yet you stayed with this story to the end. That means so much to me. It's been awesome having you guys along for the ride. Even though Neon and Karlie died early, they were just as vital to the story as all the other tributes. Thank you for your characters.**

**Thomas J. Flynn, istheplacewhereIloveyou, Foxface5, nightfuries, and PhoenixEmbersandashes: Your loyalty has been astounding and your comments were inspiring. You're all phenomenal people and I hope that you always remember that. Sara, Luis, Bay, Gray, and Delany were some of the best characters I have ever received and you guys gave them to me. They all died and I miss them terribly. Thank you for your characters.**

**Xylia Ren and XMistressChaosx: You guys went back and reviewed every chapter even though the story was long past that point. It meant a lot to me and I hold you both in very high esteem. Never stop writing, you guys.**

**HungerGamesFan22: You submitted a tribute, but I never used her as such. And yet you stuck with this story. Thank you for Avia and for all your support.**

**PenMagic, Call me cat333, Myrtle Falls, initia nova, Funny-Bunny-lover, SteamIsBetter, sock-feet-and-stirring-sand, and t00 lazy to log in: You all submitted great characters and for the most part gave great reviews. I literally have memorials put up on the walls of my room to your tributes. It was a privilege to write for your creations and I have no idea what I would have done without you guys. Thank you for your characters and happy writing.**

**fractals123, The Yellow Duckling, tayjay101, thynerdgurl, thethirteenthwriter, and Mari Tate: You guys didn't really review, but I had PM conversations with a few of you and I know a few of you in real life. Your characters were phenomenal and you guys are awesome. Thank you so much for giving me your creations. **

**Avril the Divergent, huffleclawgirl, HungerGamesFan99, Antiheroine3, TheSecretA, anon reviewers, and anyone I might have missed: you didn't submit tributes, yet you gave your input on the story and it was extremely valuable. Thank you for your support.**

**Thanks to all my lurkers as well. :) Even if you never said anything, you are loved.**

**Tell me what you thought!**


	36. The Final Story

**Okay, some last thanks. To Anla'shok, who read and reviewed the whole story. Even when musics gone and Peace Love Owls, who I forgot last chapter, deserve thanks as well. I love you guys. :)**

**This is the last thing Newt ever wrote. It was found on his desk by the same people who found his body. **

* * *

Once upon a time, there was a boy. His name was Chandler. Chandler was not the kind of boy that people remembered. He was not a hero. But this boy was smart.

He was made to play a game. He didn't want to play, but the people told him that he had to. So he went into a strange building with the other players.

It was a dangerous game. People didn't always live. In fact, lots of people died. People that Chandler cared about died. He saw them die.

This boy had a friend, in the game. They kept each other safe. They were both smart. They wanted to go home.

One day the players of the game went into a different part of the game. It was a desert. Chandler and his friend had to share what little they had if they wanted to live.

It was working until the people who made the game decided to choose favorites. They sent a dragon to eat one of the boys. It attacked.

But Chandler wasn't eaten. The dragon tried to swallow him, but it failed. The boy climbed out of its mouth and onto its back. He figured out how to ride the dragon. They flew together.

Chandler's friend thought that he had died. He went on to win the game, but he never was the same again.

But Chandler and his dragon flew on, safe, forever.

THE END

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**Thank you. And goodbye for now. :)**


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